Harry Potter and the Heir of the House of Black
by The Philosopher0
Summary: Also known as Harry Potter: M.o.D. Born. On his first trip on the Hogwarts Express, Harry meets a new boy. Benjamin Altair Black. This brand new, original character who alters the paths of those around him in beneficial ways. Canon pairings. OC/Daphne. AU. Minor divergents starting in Books 1 & 2, rippling to major from Book 3 onwards. WARNING: Books 1 & 2 edited not rewritten.
1. 1 - A New Beginning

**AN: Alright so, this is my first long-form story. WARNING: THIS IS HIGHLY EDITED FOR THE FIRST PART. For those of you who haven't followed from the beginning, if you want to skip the edited section, I direct you to skip immediately to Chapter 23 for an author's notes summary of the events that have happened.**

Otherwise known as Harry Potter: M.o.D. Born

(replaces part of chapter 6 in Harry Potter and the Philosopher's/ Sorcerer's Stone)

"Bye," said Harry and Ron. The twins slid the compartment door shut behind them.

Not even a second after the twins had left, a blond bespectacled boy appeared outside the door. He knocked hesitantly on the door before he opened it. He asked nervously in a quiet voice, "Is anyone sitting with you? Everywhere else is full."

Harry looked at Ron to see if he minded. Ron was looking at Harry with a curious expression. Harry turned back to the newcomer. "You can sit in here."

The boy smiled at Harry. "Thank you."

"Are you really Harry Potter?" Ron blurted out, making the newcomer visibly jump. Harry nodded.

"Oh - well, I thought it might be one of Fred and George's jokes," said Ron. "And have you really got - you know… "

He pointed at Harry's forehead.

Harry pulled back his bangs to show the lightning scar. Ron stared as the other boy looked at it for a second, then looked away with an uncomfortable expression. "So that's where You-Know-Who -?"

"Yes," said Harry, "but I can't remember it."

"Nothing?" said Ron eagerly.

"Well - I remember a lot of green light, but nothing else."

"Wow," said Ron. He sat and stared at Harry for a few moments, then, as though he had suddenly realized what he was doing, he looked quickly out of the window again.

The boy cleared his throat, drawing both Harry and Ron's attention to him. He looked at the pair, embarrassed. "I just realized I never introduced myself. I'm Benjamin Wi - sorry, Black."

Ron's eyes grew wide as he stared at Benjamin with fear. Benjamin noticed his gaze and sighed.

"Er - you," Benjamin said in an exasperated and uncertain tone, causing Ron to flinch, "I was raised by my mother and step father, who is non magical, so whatever preconceived notions you have about the Black family don't apply to me."

Harry looked between the two boys with confusion. "Er."

Benjamin looked at Harry's expression and clarified. "My father's family is one of the more dangerous families within the British wizarding world. My uncle is imprisoned for being a follower of Voldemort."

Harry's eyes widened as Ron flinched. Benjamin sighed, "Saying his name is not going to bring him here. He's … vanished, if not dead, we can't summon him by speaking his name."

The cabin was quiet for a moment as the boys digested what Benjamin said.

"So Ron, are all your family wizards?" asked Harry, breaking the silence, as curious about Ron as Ron was of Harry.

"Er - yes, I think so," said Ron. "I think Mom's got a second cousin who's an accountant, but we never talk about him."

"So you must know loads of magic already."

The Weasleys were clearly one of those old wizarding families the pale boy in Diagon Alley had talked about.

"I heard you went to live with Muggles," said Ron. "What are they like?"

"Horrible - well, not all of them. My aunt and uncle and cousin are, though. Wish I'd had three wizard brothers."

"Five," said Ron. For some reason, he was looking gloomy. "I'm the sixth in our family to go to Hogwarts. You could say I've got a lot to live up to. Bill and Charlie have already left - Bill was head boy and Charlie was captain of Quidditch. Now Percy's a prefect. Fred and George mess around a lot, but they still get really good marks and everyone thinks they're really funny. Everyone expects me to do as well as the others, but if I do, it's no big deal, because they did it first. You never get anything new, either, with five brothers. I've got Bill's old robes, Charlie's old wand, and Percy's old rat."

Ron reached inside his jacket and pulled out a fat gray rat, which was asleep.

"His name's Scabbers and he's useless, he hardly ever wakes up. Percy got an owl from my dad for being made a prefect, but they couldn't aff - I mean, I got Scabbers instead."

Ron's ears went pink. He seemed to think he'd said too much, because he went back to staring out of the window.

Benjamin spoke up. "That's fine, Ron. I certainly didn't grow up with a lot of money and I don't think Harry's the type to care about that."

Harry wasn't the type. After all, he'd never had any money in his life until a month ago, and he told Ron so, all about having to wear Dudley's old clothes and never getting proper birthday presents. This seemed to cheer Ron up, although Benjamin looked concerned.

"… and until Hagrid told me, I didn't know anything about being a wizard or about my parents or Voldemort -"

Ron gasped.

"What?" said Harry.

"_You said You-Know-Who's name!_" said Ron, sounding both shocked and impressed, while Benjamin was rolling his eyes at Ron. "I'd have thought you, of all people -"

"I'm not trying to be _brave_ or anything, saying the name," said Harry, "I just never knew you shouldn't. See what I mean? I've got loads to learn … I bet," he added, voicing for the first time something that had been worrying him a lot lately, "I bet I'm the worst in the class."

"You won't be. There's loads of people who come from Muggle families and they learn quick enough."

"Ron's right. I'm certain I'm not going to be better at magic, even if my mother used it less than subtly."

While they had been talking, the train had carried them out of London. Now they were speeding past fields full of cows and sheep. They were quiet for a time, watching the fields and lanes flick past. Benjamin had pulled out a book in that time and started reading.

Around half past twelve, there was a great clattering outside in the corridor and a smiling, dimpled woman slid back their door and said, "Anything off the cart, dears?"

Harry, who hadn't had any breakfast, leapt to his feet, but Ron's ears went pink again and he muttered that he'd brought sandwiches. Benjamin politely declined, claiming not to be hungry. Harry went out into the corridor.

He had never had any money for candy with the Dursleys, and now that he had pockets rattling with gold and silver he was ready to buy as many Mars Bars as he could carry - but the woman didn't have Mars Bars. What she did have were Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans, Drooble's Best Blowing Gum, Chocolate Frogs. Pumpkin Pasties, Cauldron Cakes, Licorice Wands, and a number of other strange things Harry had never seen in his life. Not wanting to miss anything, he got some of everything and paid the woman eleven silver Sickles and seven bronze Knuts.

Ron and Benjamin stared at Harry as he brought it all back into the compartment and tipped it onto an empty seat, both looking amused and bemused.

"Hungry, are you?" asked Ron.

"Starving," said Harry, taking a large bite out of a pumpkin pasty.

"I notice," Benjamin said with a wry smile.

Ron had taken out a lumpy package and unwrapped it. There were four sandwiches inside. He pulled one of them apart and said, "She always forgets I don't like corned beef."

"If you don't want it I could have it," Benjamin offered.

"Swap you for one of these," said Harry, holding up a pasty. "Go on -"

"You don't want this, it's all dry," said Ron. "She hasn't got much time," he added quickly, "you know, with five of us."

"Go on, have a pasty," said Harry, who had never had anything to share before or, indeed, anyone to share it with. "Same with you, Benjamin."

"Oh, no I couldn't -" Benjamin said before Harry interrupted him, saying it was fine. It was a nice feeling, sitting there with Ron and Ben, as he insisted on being called, eating their way through all Harry's pasties, cakes, and candies (the sandwiches lay forgotten).

"What are these?" Harry asked Ron, holding up a pack of Chocolate Frogs, as Ben looked on in the background. "They're not _really_ frogs, are they?" He was starting to feel that nothing would surprise him.

"No," said Ron. "But see what the card is. I'm missing Agrippa."

"What?"

"Pardon?"

"Oh, of course, you wouldn't know - Chocolate Frogs have cards, inside them, you know, to collect - famous witches and wizards. I've got about five hundred, but I haven't got Agrippa or Ptolemy."

Harry unwrapped his Chocolate Frog and picked up the card. It showed a man's face. He wore half- moon glasses, had a long, crooked nose, and flowing silver hair, beard, and mustache. Underneath the picture was the name Albus Dumbledore.

"So this is Dumbledore!" said Harry.

"Don't tell me you'd never heard of Dumbledore!" said Ron. "Can I have a frog? I might get Agrippa - thanks."

"'Course we haven't, Ron," Ben said, pausing from eating his frog. "We're new to the European wizarding world."

Harry turned over his card and read:

ALBUS DUMBLEDORE

CURRENTLY HEADMASTER OF HOGWARTS

Considered by many the greatest wizard of modern times, Dumbledore is particularly famous for his defeat of the dark wizard Grindelwald in 1945, for the discovery of the twelve uses of dragon's blood, and his work on alchemy with his partner, Nicolas Flamel. Professor Dumbledore enjoys chamber music and tenpin bowling.

Harry turned the card back over and saw, to his astonishment, that Dumbledore's face had disappeared.

"He's gone!"

"Well, you can't expect him to hang around all day," said Ron. "He'll be back. No, I've got Morgana again and I've got about six of her … do you want it? You can start collecting."

Ron's eyes strayed to the pile of Chocolate Frogs waiting to be unwrapped.

"Help yourself," said Harry. "But in, you know, the Muggle world, people just stay put in photos."

"Do they? What, they don't move at all?" Ron sounded amazed. "_Weird!_"

Ben stared at Ron in a confused fashion as Harry stared at Dumbledore as he sidled back into the picture on his card and gave him a small smile. Ron was more interested in eating the frogs than looking at the Famous Witches and Wizards cards, but Ben and Harry couldn't keep their eyes off them. Soon Harry had not only Dumbledore and Morgana, but Hengist of Woodcroft, Alberic Grunnion, Circe, Paracelsus, and Merlin. Ben had a fine collection himself. Harry finally tore his eyes away from the druidess Cliodna, who was scratching her nose, to open a bag of Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans.

"You want to be careful with those," Ron warned Harry. "When they say every flavor, they mean every flavor - you know, you get all the ordinary ones like chocolate and peppermint and marmalade, but then you can get spinach and liver and tripe. George reckons he had a booger- flavored one once."

Ben looked at Ron in confusion as he picked up a green bean, looked at it carefully, and bit into a corner.

"Bleaaargh - see? Sprouts."

They had a good time eating the Every Flavor Beans. Harry got toast, coconut, baked bean, strawberry, curry, grass, coffee, sardine, and was even brave enough to nibble the end off a funny gray one Ron wouldn't touch, which turned out to be pepper.

The countryside now flying past the window was becoming wilder. The neat fields had gone. Now there were woods, twisting rivers, and dark green hills.

There was a knock on the door of their compartment and the round-faced boy Harry had passed on platform nine and three quarters came in. He looked tearful.

"Sorry," he said, "but have you seen a toad at all?"

When they shook their heads, he wailed, "I've lost him! He keeps getting away from me!"

"He'll turn up," said Harry.

"Yes," said the boy miserably. "Well, if you see him … "

He left.

"Don't know why he's so bothered," said Ron. "If I'd brought a toad I'd lose it as quick as I could. Mind you, I brought Scabbers, so I can't talk."

The rat was still snoozing on Ron's lap.

"He might have died and you wouldn't know the difference," said Ron in disgust, as Ben stared at Ron with an incredulous expression. "I tried to turn him yellow yesterday to make him more interesting, but the spell didn't work. I'll show you, look … "

He rummaged around in his trunk and pulled out a very battered-looking wand. It was chipped in places and something white was glinting at the end.

"Unicorn hair's nearly poking out. Anyway -"

Ben transferred his stare to the wand, with a look of concern. Ron had just raised his wand when the compartment door slid open again. The toadless boy was back, but this time he had a girl with him. She was already wearing her new Hogwarts robes.

"Has anyone seen a toad? Neville's lost one," she said. She had a bossy sort of voice, lots of bushy brown hair, and rather large front teeth.

"We've already told him we haven't seen it," said Ron, but the girl wasn't listening, she was looking at the wand in his hand.

"Oh, are you doing magic? Let's see it, then."

She sat down, next to Ben, causing the boy to switch his gaze to her, adopting an incredulous look again. Ron looked taken aback at the girl.

"Er - all right."

He cleared his throat.

_"Sunshine, daisies, butter mellow, Turn this stupid, fat rat yellow."_

He waved his wand, but nothing happened. Scabbers stayed gray and fast asleep.

"Are you sure that's a real spell?" said the girl as Ben again stared at the wand in concern. "Well, it's not very good, is it? I've tried a few simple spells just for practice and it's all worked for me. Nobody in my family's magic at all, it was ever such a surprise when I got my letter, but I was ever so pleased, of course, I mean, it's the very best school of witchcraft there is, I've heard - I've learned all our course books by heart, of course, I just hope it will be enough - I'm Hermione Granger, by the way, who are you."

She said all this very fast.

Harry looked at Ron, and was relieved to see by his stunned face that he hadn't learned all the course books by heart either. Ben looked back at Hermione with an amused smile.

"I'm Ron Weasley," Ron muttered.

"Benjamin Black," stated Ben, offering his hand.

"Harry Potter," said Harry.

"Are you really?" said Hermione, having just finished shaking Ben's hand. "I know all about you, of course -"

Ben snorted.

Hermione turned her attention to Ben. "Is something funny."

Ben flushed before saying, "Well, it's just that, you know _all_ about him? You know where he lives? What he eats? How he sleeps? His favorite colour?"

Harry had started to become uncomfortable at this line of questioning. Ron and Neville looked at Ben in confusion. Hermione looked at Ben in annoyance.

"You're being rude, you know," she said in a bossy tone.

Ben snorted again. "Says the girl who came in here without some much as an 'excuse me' and sat down in a seat without an invitation."

"I was just saying that he was in some of the other books I read," Hermione explained, still using a bossy tone.

Ben glared at Hermione. "Then you should have said that instead of saying you know all about him. Not everything that's printed is the truth." Hermione's glare intensified. Ben, spotting this started giving her a look of pity. "If everything printed was true then what the Germans did in World War II was fine, after all, I've heard it said that there's a book out there written by Adolf -"

"Stop!" Hermione shouted.

Ben's face was apologetic. "I'm sorry, but you need to know that not everything written can be trusted. Most textbooks have correct information but sometimes small errors occur and other times new things are discovered that were previously thought impossible. What you need to learn is that _all_ sources are biased to a degree and that knowledge can come from _anywhere_."

Silence reigned in the cabin. Harry thought that Ben made good points. He certainly was never told by books what to do to keep the Dursleys happy. Ron and Neville also had thoughtful looks on their faces. Ben was looking down, seemingly embarrassed at having to deliver such information to anyone else. Hermione was on the verge of tears.

"Well," Hermione said, startling Harry as she broke the silence, her voice tight with emotion, "you've certainly made your point clear. I assume you want to be in Slytherin, based how you tried to change my mind."

Ben snorted. "I'm not ambitious enough to get into Slytherin. I was merely trying to get you to have an open mind. I'm probably going to end up in Ravenclaw, as I seem to have all the qualifications for Ravenclaw."

"The what?" Harry asked.

"By 'qualifications', I mean qualities. I'm not very reckless, I'm not good at working on things that don't interest me, and I don't have many or high ambitions. These are key traits that are in Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, and Slytherin, respectively. I have all the key traits of Ravenclaw, however, so that's probably where I'll end up," Ben stated.

Harry was a bit overwhelmed by the information, as did Neville and Ron. Hermione nodded in understanding, however.

"What are the key Ravenclaw traits?" She asked.

"Ravenclaws are known for their intelligence, wisdom, wit, creativity, and acceptance. These are not always the most studious of traits, but they often have profound effects on the world around them in respect to knowledge and its application," Ben replied.

Harry was confused by this. He looked at Ron to see if he understood any of the last part. From his expression, Harry assumed he didn't. Neville also seemed to be unable to determine what Ben meant. Hermione seemed to be in deep thought, as though confused by something.

"Why did you speak about books being untrue, then?" Hermione asked.

Ben smirked slightly. "Because I was trying to determine if you were a potential housemate. If you accepted my viewpoint, or at least considered it, then I'd say that you would probably be in Ravenclaw. However, since you didn't have an open mind, I doubt you'll be sorted into Ravenclaw." He paused for a moment before frowning. "Didn't you mention having a toad to find, by the way?"

This seemed to galvanize Hermione and Neville. "Right," Hermione said, "we'd better go and look for Neville's toad. You three had better change, you know, I expect we'll be there soon."

And she left, taking Neville with her.

"Whatever house I'm in, I hope she's not in it," said Ron. He threw his wand back into his trunk. "Stupid spell - George gave it to me, bet he knew it was a dud."

"Possibly," Ben replied, eyeing Ron's wand warily.

"What house are your brothers in?" asked Harry, attempting to direct the conversation into a reasonable direction.

"Gryffindor," said Ron. Gloom seemed to be settling on him again. "Mom and Dad were in it, too. I don't know what they'll say if I'm not. I don't suppose Ravenclaw would be too bad, but imagine if they put me in Slytherin."

"That's the house Vol-, I mean, You-Know-Who was in?"

"Yeah," said Ron as Ben nodded. He flopped back into his seat, looking depressed.

"You know, I think the ends of Scabbers' whiskers are a bit lighter," said Harry, trying to take Ron's mind off houses. "So what do your oldest brothers do now that they've left, anyway?"

Harry was wondering what a wizard did once he'd finished school.

"Charlie's in Romania studying dragons, and Bill's in Africa doing something for Gringotts," said Ron. "Did you hear about Gringotts? It's been all over the _Daily Prophet_, but I don't suppose you get that with the Muggles - someone tried to rob a high security vault."

Harry stared.

"Really? What happened to them?"

"Nothing, that's why it's such big news. They haven't been caught. My dad says it must've been a powerful Dark wizard to get round Gringotts, but they don't think they took anything, that's what's odd. 'Course, everyone gets scared when something like this happens in case You-Know-Who's behind it."

Harry turned this news over in his mind. He was starting to get a prickle of fear every time You- Know-Who was mentioned. He supposed this was all part of entering the magical world, but it had been a lot more comfortable saying "Voldemort" without worrying.

"What's your Quidditch team?" Ron asked.

"Er - I don't know any," Harry confessed.

"Neither do I," Ben stated. Harry shot him a grateful look.

"What!" Ron looked dumbfounded. "Oh, you wait, it's the best game in the world -" And he was off, explaining all about the four balls and the positions of the seven players, describing famous games he'd been to with his brothers and the broomstick he'd like to get if he had the money. He was just taking Harry and Ben through the finer points of the game when the compartment door slid open yet again, but it wasn't Neville the toadless boy, or Hermione Granger this time.

Three boys entered, and Harry recognized the middle one at once: it was the pale boy from Madam Malkin's robe shop. He was looking at Harry with a lot more interest than he'd shown back in Diagon Alley.

"Is it true?" he said. "They're saying all down the train that Harry Potter's in this compartment. So it's you, is it?"

"Yes," said Harry. He was looking at the other boys. Both of them were thickset and looked extremely mean. Standing on either side of the pale boy, they looked like bodyguards.

"Oh, this is Crabbe and this is Goyle," said the pale boy carelessly, noticing where Harry was looking. "And my name's Malfoy, Draco Malfoy."

Ron gave a slight cough, which might have been hiding a snigger. Draco Malfoy looked at him.

"Think my name's funny, do you? No need to ask who you are. My father told me all the Weasleys have red hair, freckles, and more children than they can afford."

Ben seemed to grow increasing put out the longer Draco Malfoy stayed and spoke.

He turned back to Harry. "You'll soon find out some wizarding families are much better than others, Potter. You don't want to go making friends with the wrong sort. I can help you there."

He held out his hand to shake Harry's, but Harry didn't take it.

"I think I can tell who the wrong sort are for myself, thanks," he said coolly.

Draco Malfoy didn't go red, but a pink tinge appeared in his pale cheeks.

"I'd be careful if I were you, Potter," he said slowly. "Unless you're a bit politer you'll go the same way as your parents. They didn't know what was good for them, either. You hang around with riffraff like the Weasleys and that Hagrid, and it'll rub off on you."

Both Harry and Ron stood up as Ben sighed in despair.

"Say that again," Ron said, his face as red as his hair.

"Oh, you're going to fight us, are you?" Malfoy sneered.

"Unless you get out now," said Harry, more bravely than he felt, because Crabbe and Goyle were a lot bigger than him or Ron.

"But we don't feel like leaving, do we, boys? We've eaten all our food and you still seem to have some."

Goyle reached toward the Chocolate Frogs next to Ron - Ron leapt forward, but before he'd so much as touched Goyle, Goyle let out a horrible yell.

Scabbers the rat was hanging off his finger, sharp little teeth sunk deep into Goyle's knuckle - Crabbe and Malfoy backed away as Goyle swung Scabbers round and round, howling, and when Scabbers finally flew off and hit the window, all three of them disappeared at once. Perhaps they thought there were more rats lurking among the sweets, or perhaps they'd heard footsteps, because a second later, Hermione Granger had come in.

"What _has_ been going on?" she said, looking at the sweets all over the floor and Ron picking up Scabbers by his tail.

"I think he's been knocked out," Ron said to Harry. He looked closer at Scabbers. "No - I don't believe it - he's gone back to sleep -"

And so he had.

"You've met Malfoy before?"

Harry explained about their meeting in Diagon Alley.

"I've heard of his family," said Ron darkly. "They were some of the first to come back to our side after You-Know-Who disappeared. Said they'd been bewitched. My dad doesn't believe it. He says Malfoy's father didn't need an excuse to go over to the Dark Side." He turned to Hermione, not noticing Ben's disappointed frown. "Can we help you with something?"

"You'd better hurry up and put your robes on, I've just been up to the front to ask the conductor, and he says we're nearly there. You haven't been fighting, have you? You'll be in trouble before we even get there!"

"Scabbers has been fighting, not us," said Ron, scowling at her. "Would you mind leaving while we change?"

"All right - I only came in here because people outside are behaving very childishly, racing up and down the corridors," said Hermione in a sniffy voice. "And you've got dirt on your nose, by the way, did you know?"

Ron glared at her as she left as Ben rolled his eyes. Harry peered out of the window. It was getting dark. He could see mountains and forests under a deep purple sky. The train did seem to be slowing down.

He, Ben, and Ron took off their jackets and pulled on their long black robes. Ron's were a bit short for him, you could see his sneakers underneath them.

A voice echoed through the train: "We will be reaching Hogwarts in five minutes' time. Please leave your luggage on the train, it will be taken to the school separately."

Harry's stomach lurched with nerves, Ron, he saw, looked pale under his freckles, and Ben wasn't looking much better. They crammed their pockets with the last of the sweets and joined the crowd thronging the corridor.

The train slowed right down and finally stopped. People pushed their way toward the door and out on to a tiny, dark platform. Harry shivered in the cold night air. Then a lamp came bobbing over the heads of the students, and Harry heard a familiar voice: "Firs' years! Firs' years over here! All right there, Harry?"

Hagrid's big hairy face beamed over the sea of heads.

"C'mon, follow me - any more firs' years? Mind yer step, now! Firs' years follow me!"

Slipping and stumbling, they followed Hagrid down what seemed to be a steep, narrow path. It was so dark on either side of them that Harry thought there must be thick trees there. Nobody spoke much. Neville, the boy who kept losing his toad, sniffed once or twice.

"Ye' all get yer firs' sight o' Hogwarts in a sec," Hagrid called over his shoulder, "jus' round this bend here."

There was a loud "Oooooh!"

The narrow path had opened suddenly onto the edge of a great black take. Perched atop a high mountain on the other side, its windows sparkling in the starry sky, was a vast castle with many turrets and towers.

"No more'n four to a boat!" Hagrid called, pointing to a fleet of little boats sitting in the water by the shore. Harry and Ron were followed into their boat by Neville and Hermione. Ben was in a boat with a trio of girls with different coloured hair. "Everyone in?" shouted Hagrid, who had a boat to himself. "Right then - FORWARD!"

And the fleet of little boats moved off all at once, gliding across the lake, which was as smooth as glass. Everyone was silent, staring up at the great castle overhead. It towered over them as they sailed nearer and nearer to the cliff on which it stood.

"Heads down!" yelled Hagrid as the first boats reached the cliff; they all bent their heads and the little boats carried them through a curtain of ivy that hid a wide opening in the cliff face. They were carried along a dark tunnel, which seemed to be taking them right underneath the castle, until they reached a kind of underground harbor, where they clambered out onto rocks and pebbles.

"Oy, you there! Is this your toad?" said Hagrid, who was checking the boats as people climbed out of them.

"Trevor!" cried Neville blissfully, holding out his hands. Then they clambered up a passageway in the rock after Hagrid's lamp, coming out at last onto smooth, damp grass right in the shadow of the castle.

They walked up a flight of stone steps and crowded around the huge, Oak front door.

"Everyone here? You there, still got yer toad?"

Hagrid raised a gigantic fist and knocked three times on the castle door.

**AN: Hi, this will be my normal author notes location but I thought I should forewarn you about what will happen in this story. Technically, this is my first story, but I intend to tell a long story with this. This story will be on a biweekly update schedule barring any irregularities.**

**Uploaded Nov. 1st, 2019**

**Edited Apr. 16th, 2020, July 26th, 2020**


	2. 2 - Classes Begin

(replaces chapter 8 in Harry Potter and the Philosopher's/ Sorcerer's Stone)

The sorting ceremony was an interesting experience for Harry. As Ben predicted, he was sorted into Ravenclaw, but not before sitting for at least a minute under the Sorting Hat until it let out a great laugh and proclaimed to have had the best conversation that it had in years. His prediction about Hermione had also been correct, as she was sorted into Gryffindor, not Ravenclaw. Ron, Neville, and Harry were also sorted into Gryffindor, even if the Sorting Hat considered putting Harry in Slytherin. Harry didn't want to be in the same House as Malfoy, though, so begged the Hat not to put him in Slytherin.

Whispers followed Harry from the moment he left his dormitory the next day. People lining up outside classrooms stood on tiptoe to get a look at him, or doubled back to pass him in the corridors again, staring.

Harry wished they wouldn't, because he was trying to concentrate on finding his way to classes.

There were a hundred and forty-two staircases at Hogwarts: wide, sweeping ones; narrow, rickety ones; some that led somewhere different on a Friday; some with a vanishing step halfway up that you had to remember to jump. Then there were doors that wouldn't open unless you asked politely, or tickled them in exactly the right place, and doors that weren't really doors at all, but solid walls just pretending. It was also very hard to remember where anything was, because it all seemed to move around a lot. The people in the portraits kept going to visit each other, and Harry was sure the coats of armor could walk.

The ghosts didn't help, either. It was always a nasty shock when one of them glided suddenly through a door you were trying to open. Nearly Headless Nick was always happy to point new Gryffindors in the right direction, but Peeves the Poltergeist was worth two locked doors and a trick staircase if you met him when you were late for class. He would drop wastepaper baskets on your head, pull rugs from under your feet, pelt you with bits of chalk, or sneak up behind you, invisible, grab your nose, and screech, "GOT YOUR CONK!"

Even worse than Peeves, if that was possible, was the caretaker, Argus Filch. Harry and Ron managed to get on the wrong side of him on their very first morning. Filch found them trying to force their way through a door that unluckily turned out to be the entrance to the out-of-bounds corridor on the third floor. He wouldn't believe they were lost, was sure they were trying to break into it on purpose, and was threatening to lock them in the dungeons when they were rescued by Professor Quirrell, who was passing.

Filch owned a cat called Mrs. Norris, a scrawny, dust-colored creature with bulging, lamp like eyes just like Filch's. She patrolled the corridors alone. Break a rule in front of her, put just one toe out of line, and she'd whisk off for Filch, who'd appear, wheezing, two seconds later. Filch knew the secret passageways of the school better than anyone (except perhaps the Weasley twins) and could pop up as suddenly as any of the ghosts. The students all hated him, and it was the dearest ambition of many to give Mrs. Norris a good kick.

And then, once you had managed to find them, there were the classes themselves. There was a lot more to magic, as Harry quickly found out, than waving your wand and saying a few funny words.

They had to study the night skies through their telescopes every Wednesday at midnight and learn the names of different stars and the movements of the planets. Three times a week they went out to the greenhouses behind the castle to study Herbology, with a dumpy little witch called Professor Sprout, where they learned how to take care of all the strange plants and fungi, and found out what they were used for.

Easily the most boring class was History of Magic, which was the only one taught by a ghost. Professor Binns had been very old indeed when he had fallen asleep in front of the staff room fire and got up next morning to teach, leaving his body behind him. Binns droned on and on while they scribbled down names and dates, and got Emetic the Evil and Uric the Oddball mixed up. Ben had proclaimed it a travesty of the highest order and was later seen in the library reading books on the History of Magic.

Professor Flitwick, the Charms teacher, was a tiny little wizard who had to stand on a pile of books to see over his desk. At the start of their first class he took the roll call, and when he reached Harry's name he gave an excited squeak and toppled out of sight.

Professor McGonagall was again different. Harry had been quite right to think she wasn't a teacher to cross. Strict and clever, she gave them a talking-to the moment they sat down in her first class.

"Transfiguration is some of the most complex and dangerous magic you will learn at Hogwarts," she said. "Anyone messing around in my class will leave and not come back. You have been warned."

Then she changed her desk into a pig and back again. They were all very impressed and couldn't wait to get started, but soon realized they weren't going to be changing the furniture into animals for a long time. After taking a lot of complicated notes, they were each given a match and started trying to turn it into a needle. By the end of the lesson, only Hermione Granger had made any difference to her match; Professor McGonagall showed the class how it had gone all silver and pointy and gave Hermione a rare smile.

The class everyone had really been looking forward to was Defense Against the Dark Arts, but Quirrell's lessons turned out to be a bit of a joke, much to Ben's increasing frustration. His classroom smelled strongly of garlic, which everyone said was to ward off a vampire he'd met in Romania and was afraid would be coming back to get him one of these days. His turban, he told them, had been given to him by an African prince as a thank-you for getting rid of a troublesome zombie, but they weren't sure they believed this story. For one thing, when Seamus Finnigan asked eagerly to hear how Quirrell had fought off the zombie, Quirrell went pink and started talking about the weather; for another, they had noticed that a funny smell hung around the turban, and the Weasley twins insisted that it was stuffed full of garlic as well, so that Quirrell was protected wherever he went.

Harry was very relieved to find out that he wasn't miles behind everyone else. Lots of people had come from Muggle families and, like him, hadn't had any idea that they were witches and wizards. There was so much to learn that even people like Ron didn't have much of a head start.

Friday was an important day for Harry and Ron. They finally managed to find their way down to the Great Hall for breakfast without getting lost once.

"What have we got today?" Harry asked Ron as he poured sugar on his porridge.

"Double Potions with the Slytherins," said Ron. "Snape's Head of Slytherin House. They say he always favors them - we'll be able to see if it's true."

"Wish McGonagall favored us, " said Harry. Professor McGonagall was head of Gryffindor House, but it hadn't stopped her from giving them a huge pile of homework the day before.

Just then, the mail arrived. Harry had gotten used to this by now, but it had given him a bit of a shock on the first morning, when about a hundred owls had suddenly streamed into the Great Hall during breakfast,circling the tables until they saw their owners, and dropping letters and packages onto their laps.

Hedwig hadn't brought Harry anything so far. She sometimes flew in to nibble his ear and have a bit of toast before going off to sleep in the owlery with the other school owls. This morning, however, she fluttered down between the marmalade and the sugar bowl and dropped a note onto Harry's plate. Harry tore it open at once. It said, in a very untidy scrawl:

Dear Harry,

I know you get Friday afternoons off, so would you like to come and have a cup of tea with me around three?

I want to hear all about your first week. Send us an answer back with Hedwig.

Hagrid

Harry borrowed Ron's quill, scribbled _Yes, please, see you later_ on the back of the note, and sent Hedwig off again.

It was lucky that Harry had tea with Hagrid to look forward to, because the Potions lesson turned out to be the worst thing that had happened to him so far.

At the start-of-term banquet, Harry had gotten the idea that Professor Snape disliked him. By the end of the first Potions lesson, he knew he'd been wrong. Snape didn't dislike Harry - he _hated_ him.

Potions lessons took place down in one of the dungeons. It was colder here than up in the main castle, and would have been quite creepy enough without the pickled animals floating in glass jars all around the walls.

Snape, like Flitwick, started the class by taking the roll call, and like Flitwick, he paused at Harry's name.

"Ah, Yes," he said softly, "Harry Potter. Our new - _celebrity_."

Draco Malfoy and his friends Crabbe and Goyle sniggered behind their hands. Snape finished calling the names and looked up at the class. His eyes were black like Hagrid's, but they had none of Hagrid's warmth. They were cold and empty and made you think of dark tunnels.

"You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion making," he began. He spoke in barely more than a whisper, but they caught every word - like Professor McGonagall, Snape had the gift of keeping a class silent without effort. "As there is little foolish wand-waving

here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don't expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses …. I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death - if you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach."

More silence followed this little speech. Harry and Ron exchanged looks with raised eyebrows. Hermione Granger was on the edge of her seat and looked desperate to start proving that she wasn't a dunderhead.

"Potter!" said Snape suddenly. "What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

_Powdered root of what to an infusion of what?_ Harry glanced at Ron, who looked as stumped as he was; Hermione's hand had shot into the air.

"I don't know, sit," said Harry.

Snape's lips curled into a sneer.

"Tut, tut - fame clearly isn't everything."

He ignored Hermione's hand.

"Let's try again. Potter, where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?"

Hermione stretched her hand as high into the air as it would go without her leaving her seat, but Harry didn't have the faintest idea what a bezoar was. He tried not to look at Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle, who were shaking with laughter.

"I don't know, sit."

"Thought you wouldn't open a book before coming, eh, Potter?"

Harry forced himself to keep looking straight into those cold eyes. He _had_ looked through his books at the Dursleys', but did Snape expect him to remember everything in _One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi_?

Snape was still ignoring Hermione's quivering hand.

"What is the difference, Potter, between monkshood and wolfsbane?"

At this, Hermione stood up, her hand stretching toward the dungeon ceiling.

"I don't know," said Harry quietly. "I think Hermione does, though, why don't you try her?"

A few people laughed; Harry caught Seamus's eye, and Seamus winked. Snape, however, was not pleased.

"Sit down," he snapped at Hermione. "For your information, Potter, asphodel and wormwood make a sleeping potion so powerful it is known as the Draught of Living Death. A bezoar is a stone taken from the stomach of a goat and it will save you from most poisons. As for monkshood and wolfsbane, they are the same plant, which also goes by the name of

aconite. Well? Why aren't you all copying that down?"

There was a sudden rummaging for quills and parchment. Over the noise, Snape said, "And a point will be taken from Gryffindor House for your cheek, Potter."

Things didn't improve for the Gryffindors as the Potions lesson continued. Snape put them all into pairs and set them to mixing up a simple potion to cure boils. He swept around in his long black cloak, watching them weigh dried nettles and crush snake fangs, criticizing almost everyone except Malfoy, whom he seemed to like. He was just telling everyone to look at the perfect way Malfoy had stewed his horned slugs when clouds of acid green smoke and a loud hissing filled the dungeon. Neville had somehow managed to melt Seamus's cauldron into a twisted blob, and their potion was seeping across the stone floor, burning holes in people's shoes. Within seconds, the whole class was standing on their stools while Neville, who had been drenched in the potion when the cauldron collapsed, moaned in pain as angry red boils sprang up all over his arms and legs.

"Idiot boy!" snarled Snape, clearing the spilled potion away with one wave of his wand. "I suppose you added the porcupine quills before taking the cauldron off the fire?"

Neville whimpered as boils started to pop up all over his nose.

"Take him up to the hospital wing," Snape spat at Seamus. Then he rounded on Harry and Ron, who had been working next to Neville.

"You - Potter - why didn't you tell him not to add the quills? Thought he'd make you look good if he got it wrong, did you? That's another point you've lost for Gryffindor."

This was so unfair that Harry opened his mouth to argue, but Ron kicked him behind their cauldron.

"Don't push it," he muttered, "I've heard Snape can turn very nasty."

As they climbed the steps out of the dungeon an hour later, Harry's mind was racing and his spirits were low. He'd lost two points for Gryffindor in his very first week - _why_ did Snape hate him so much?

"Cheer up," said Ron, "Snape's always taking points off Fred and George. Can I come and meet Hagrid with you?"

"Yeah," Harry said, cheering up a little. "D'you think we should invite Ben? He's been in the library a lot recently."

Ron shrugged. "Sure."

At five to three, after making sure to asked Ben if he wanted to come with them, Harry, Ron, and Ben left the castle and made their way across the grounds. Hagrid lived in a small wooden house on the edge of the forbidden forest. A crossbow and a pair of galoshes were outside the front door.

When Harry knocked they heard a frantic scrabbling from inside and several booming barks. Then Hagrid's voice rang out, saying, "_Back_, Fang - _back_."

Hagrid's big, hairy face appeared in the crack as he pulled the door open.

"Hang on," he said. "_Back_, Fang."

He let them in, struggling to keep a hold on the collar of an enormous black boarhound.

There was only one room inside. Hams and pheasants were hanging from the ceiling, a copper kettle was boiling on the open fire, and in the corner stood a massive bed with a patchwork quilt over it.

"Make yerselves at home," said Hagrid, letting go of Fang, who bounded straight at Ron and started licking his ears. Like Hagrid, Fang was clearly not as fierce as he looked.

"This is Ron," Harry told Hagrid, who was pouring boiling water into a large teapot and putting rock cakes onto a plate. Harry gestured to Ron before pointing to Ben, "and that's Ben."

"Another Weasley, eh?" said Hagrid, glancing at Ron's freckles. "I spent half me life chasin' yer twin brothers away from the forest. As fer you," he turned to look at Ben, "why yer similar ter young Sirius Black!"

Ben looked up with a sorrowful half-smile. "I should think so, I'm his nephew. Benjamin Altair Black, son of Regulus. A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Hagrid."

The rock cakes were shapeless lumps with raisins that almost broke their teeth, but the boys pretended to be enjoying them as they told Hagrid all about their first-lessons. Fang rested his head on Harry's knee and drooled all over his robes.

All three of the boys, although Harry and Ron especially, were delighted to hear Hagrid call Fitch "that old git."

"An' as fer that cat, Mrs. Norris, I'd like ter introduce her to Fang sometime. D'yeh know, every time I go up ter the school, she follows me everywhere? Can't get rid of her - Fitch puts her up to it."

Harry told Hagrid about Snape's lesson. Hagrid, like Ron, told Harry not to worry about it, that Snape liked hardly any of the students.

"But he seemed to really _hate_ me."

"Rubbish!" said Hagrid. "Why should he?"

Yet Harry couldn't help thinking that Hagrid didn't quite meet his eyes when he said that.

Ben interjected before Hagrid could change the subject. "He definitely doesn't seem to know what to make of me. I think, in my case, it has to do with who my father and uncle are. Maybe it's a similar cause to your predicament."

"How's yer brother Charlie?" Hagrid asked Ron before Harry could ask him if what Ben said was true. "I liked him a lot - great with animals."

Harry wondered if Hagrid had changed the subject on purpose. While Ron told Hagrid all about Charlie's work with dragons, Harry picked up a piece of paper that was lying on the table under the tea cozy. It was a cutting from the _Daily Prophet_:

GRINGOTTS BREAK-IN LATEST

(AN: I'm not posting what this said. Please read the first book if you don't remember.)

Harry remembered Ron telling him on the train that someone had tried to rob Gringotts, but Ron hadn't mentioned the date.

"Hagrid!" said Harry, "that Gringotts break-in happened on my birthday! It might've been happening while we were there!"

There was no doubt about it, Hagrid definitely didn't meet Harry's eyes this time. He grunted and offered him another rock cake. Harry read the story again. _The vault that was searched had in fact been emptied earlier that same day._ Hagrid had emptied vault seven hundred and thirteen, if you could call it emptying, taking out that grubby little package. Had that been what the thieves were looking for?

As the trio walked back to the castle for dinner, their pockets weighed down with rock cakes they'd been too polite to refuse, Harry thought that none of the lessons he'd had so far had given him as much to think about as tea with Hagrid. Had Hagrid collected that package just in time? Where was it now? And did Hagrid know something about Snape that he didn't want to tell Harry?

**AN: Look at this, early in the day! Still, not a lot of changes, those are going to happen as of the 2nd book, so currently chapter 6. I am thinking of this original character to essentially be a minor character like Neville in the scheme of the story, at least at first. He is set up to be another friend of Harry's as to give him more of a support network. I'd also like to thank all those who have reviewed and followed this story, both are appreciated.**

**Uploaded: Nov. 15th, 2019**


	3. 3 - Brooms and Speculation

(replaces part of chapter 10 in Harry Potter and the Philosopher's/ Sorcerer's Stone)

Malfoy couldn't believe his eyes when he saw that Harry and Ron were still at Hogwarts the next day, looking tired but perfectly cheerful.

Indeed, by the next morning Harry and Ron thought that meeting the three-headed dog had been an excellent adventure, and they were quite keen to have another one. In the meantime, Harry filled Ron in about the package that seemed to have been moved from Gringotts to Hogwarts, and they spent a lot of time wondering what could possibly need such heavy protection. "It's either really valuable or really dangerous," said Ron.

"Or both," said Harry.

But as all they knew for sure about the mysterious object was that it was about two inches long, they didn't have much chance of guessing what it was without further clues.

Neither Neville nor Hermione showed the slightest interest in what lay underneath the dog and the trapdoor. All Neville cared about was never going near the dog again.

Hermione was now refusing to speak to Harry and Ron, but she was such a bossy know-it-all that they saw this as an added bonus. The pair worked with Ben in the library the day after their adventure, where he spent most of his time reading about magic in all its forms. He would help them with their homework, though he usually just pointed out their errors and pointed them in the right direction. He made sure that neither of them held back in their work, something he made quite clear the first time they went to him for help.

When Harry and Ron informed Ben of what was behind the third floor corridor, he questioned the rationale of the teachers and headmaster, especially when they revealed that it was guarding a package that someone had attempted to break into Gringotts for, although he wasn't interested in investigating.

Harry and Ron really wanted now was a way of getting back at Malfoy, and to their great delight, just such a thing arrived in the mail about a week later.

As the owls flooded into the Great Hall as usual, everyone's attention was caught at once by a long, thin package carried by six large screech owls. Harry was just as interested as everyone else to see what was in this large parcel, and was amazed when the owls soared down and dropped it right in front of him, knocking his bacon to the floor. They had hardly fluttered out of the way when another owl dropped a letter on top of the parcel.

Harry ripped open the letter first, which was lucky, because it said:

DO NOT OPEN THE PARCEL AT THE TABLE.

It contains your new Nimbus Two Thousand, but I don't want everybody knowing you've got a broomstick or they'll all want one. Oliver Wood will meet you tonight on the Quidditch field at seven o'clock for your first training session.

Professor McGonagall

Harry had difficulty hiding his glee as he handed the note to Ron to read. He spotted Ben smiling at him as he did so, his eyes seeming to flash with mischief and merriment.

"A Nimbus Two Thousand!" Ron moaned enviously. "I've never even _touched_ one."

They left the hall quickly, wanting to unwrap the broomstick in private before their first class, but halfway across the entrance hall they found the way upstairs barred by Crabbe and Goyle. Malfoy seized the package from Harry and felt it.

"That's a broomstick," he said, throwing it back to Harry with a mixture of jealousy and spite on his face. "You'll be in for it this time, Potter, first years aren't allowed them."

Ron couldn't resist it.

"It's not any old broomstick," he said, "it's a Nimbus Two Thousand. What did you say you've got at home, Malfoy, a Comet Two Sixty?"

Ron grinned at Harry. "Comets look flashy, but they're not in the same league as the Nimbus."

"What would you know about it, Weasley, you couldn't afford half the handle," Malfoy snapped back. "I suppose you and your brothers have to save up twig by twig."

Before Ron could answer, Professor Flitwick appeared at Malfoy's elbow. "Not arguing, I hope, boys?" he squeaked.

"Potter's been sent a broomstick, Professor," said Malfoy quickly.

"Yes, yes, that's right," said Professor Flitwick, beaming at Harry. "Professor McGonagall told me all about the special circumstances, Potter. And what model is it?"

"A Nimbus Two Thousand, sir," said Harry, fighting not to laugh at the look of horror on Malfoy's face. "And it's really thanks to Malfoy here that I've got it," he added.

Harry and Ron headed upstairs, smothering their laughter at Malfoy's obvious rage and confusion. "Well, it's true," Harry chortled as they reached the top of the marble staircase, "If he hadn't stolen Neville's Remembrall I wouldn't be on the team …"

"So I suppose you think that's a reward for breaking rules?" came an angry voice from just behind them. Hermione was stomping up the stairs, looking disapprovingly at the package in Harry's hand.

"I thought you weren't speaking to us?" said Harry.

"Yes, don't stop now," said Ron, "it's doing us so much good."

Hermione marched away with her nose in the air.

Harry had a lot of trouble keeping his mind on his lessons that day, which seemed to cause Ben no end of amusement. It kept wandering up to the dormitory where his new broomstick was lying under his bed, or straying off to the Quidditch field where he'd be learning to play that night. He bolted his dinner that evening without noticing what he was eating, and then rushed upstairs with Ron to unwrap the Nimbus Two Thousand at last.

"Wow," Ron sighed, as the broomstick rolled onto Harry's bedspread.

Even Harry, who knew nothing about the different brooms, thought it looked wonderful. Sleek and shiny, with a mahogany handle, it had a long tail of neat, straight twigs and Nimbus Two Thousand written in gold near the top.

**AN: I know, I know, I'm early. What can I say, I decided to give you an early Thanksgiving present (I know that's not the tradition). So, to all those reading this, I wish all of you a happy Thanksgiving.**

**Uploaded Nov. 27th, 2019**


	4. 4 - Flamel Found

(mix of several chapters with extra scene at the beginning, most from chapter 12 of the Philosopher's/Sorcerer's Stone)

The day after the Quidditch match, Harry, Ron, and Hermione went to the library every break to find out who Nicholas Flamel was. They were having no success by the time dinner had rolled around. Ron was perturbed by this lack of progress.

"We'll never find him at this rate!" He exclaimed loudly as they headed towards the Great Hall. "We'll probably have to look through Christmas to find him!"

"Ron, keep it down!" Hermione hissed at him.

"I _swear_ I've heard the name before," said Harry, frowning in thought.

"What name?" A voice asked from behind them. The trio whirled quickly around to see who it was. It was Ben.

Ron let out a deep breath. "Blimey, Ben you nearly gave us a heart attack."

Ben smiled sheepishly. "Sorry. I seem to have a talent for showing up unexpectedly, even though I think that I'm not sneaking up on anyone."

The group resumed walking towards the Great Hall. "You never answered my question."

Harry caught the eyes of Ron and Hermione. They seemed to be in agreement. Harry spoke. "You have to swear not to tell this to _anybody_."

Ben smiled at that. "I'm rather good at keeping secrets. I won't reveal this information to anyone except if it's an emergency."

Harry thought that was good enough. "We think that something of Nicholas Flamel's is in the castle. We want to know what it is because the three-headed dog is guarding it. I know I've heard the name before, I just can't remember where."

Ben frowned in deep thought. "I don't know what it could be, but I remember Nicholas Flamel being mentioned with Dumbledore."

Harry tried to think of where Ben could have heard Flamel and Dumbledore together. Then, Harry remembered their ride on the Hogwarts Express. His eyes widened as he stopped walking. "Dumbledore's card."

The other three stopped to look at him. Ben asked, "What?"

"Flamel was mentioned on Dumbledore's chocolate frog card."

Hermione and Ron wore baffled expressions while Ben frowned in concentration. Then, his eyes widened. "Right, he was. I also remember alchemy being mentioned."

Hermione brightened. She hadn't looked so excited since they'd gotten back the marks for their very first piece of homework.

"I think I've got the book with the information we need already!"

"Great!" Ron said. "We can go to the library to look it up after dinner!"

Harry was eager to have this mystery solved as quickly as possible, but see the enthusiasm the other two had for this plan, he quickly acknowledged that this was probably the best course of action.

After dinner, Harry, Ron, and Ben went to the library while Hermione went to her dormitory to retrieve the book. They didn't have to wait long before she dashed into the library, an enormous old book in her arms.

"I never thought to look in here!" she whispered excitedly. "I got this out of the library weeks ago for a bit of light reading."

"_Light?_" said Ron, but Hermione told him to be quiet until she'd looked something up, and started flicking frantically through the pages, muttering to herself. Ben glared at Ron for his comment.

At last Hermione found what she was looking for.

"I knew it! I _knew_ it!"

"Are we allowed to speak yet?" said Ron grumpily. Hermione ignored him.

"Nicolas Flamel," she whispered dramatically, "is the _only known maker of the Philosopher's Stone_!"

This didn't have quite the effect she'd expected.

"The what?" said Harry and Ron.

Ben's reaction though was probably more of what she expected. He was flabbergasted.

"Oh, _honestly_, don't you two read? Look - read that, there."

She pushed the book toward them, and Harry and Ron read: _The ancient study of alchemy is concerned with making the Philosopher's Stone, a legendary substance with astonishing powers. The stone will transform any metal into pure gold. It also produces the Elixir of Life, which will make the drinker immortal._

_There have been many reports of the Philosopher's Stone over the centuries, but the only Stone currently in existence belongs to Mr. Nicolas Flamel, the noted alchemist and opera lover. Mr. Flamel, who celebrated his six hundred and sixty-fifth birthday last year, enjoys a quiet life in Devon with his wife, Perenelle (six hundred and fifty-eight)._

"See?" said Hermione, when Harry and Ron had finished. "The dog must be guarding Flamel's Philosopher's Stone! I bet he asked Dumbledore to keep it safe for him, because they're friends and he knew someone was after it, that's why he wanted the Stone moved out of Gringotts!"

"A stone that makes gold and stops you from ever dying!" said Harry. "No wonder Sn- someone's after it! _Anyone_ would want it."

"Indeed," Ben said, nodding in a sagely manner.

* * *

Christmas was coming. One morning in mid-December, Hogwarts woke to find itself covered in several feet of snow. The lake froze solid and the Weasley twins were punished for bewitching several snowballs so that they followed Quirrell around, bouncing off the back of his turban. The few owls that managed to battle their way through the stormy sky to deliver mail had to be nursed back to health by Hagrid before they could fly off again.

No one could wait for the holidays to start. While the Gryffindor common room and the Great Hall had roaring fires, the drafty corridors had become icy and a bitter wind rattled the windows in the classrooms. Worst of all were Professor Snape's classes down in the dungeons, where their breath rose in a mist before them and they kept as close as possible to their hot cauldrons.

"I do feel so sorry," said Draco Malfoy, one Potions class, "for all those people who have to stay at Hogwarts for Christmas because they're not wanted at home."

He was looking over at Harry as he spoke. Crabbe and Goyle chuckled. Harry, who was measuring out powdered spine of lionfish, ignored them. Malfoy had been even more unpleasant than usual since the Quidditch match. Disgusted that the Slytherins had lost, he had tried to get everyone laughing at how a wide-mouthed tree frog would be replacing Harry as Seeker next. Then he'd realized that nobody found this funny, because they were all so impressed at the way Harry had managed to stay on his bucking broomstick. So Malfoy, jealous and angry, had gone back to taunting Harry about having no proper family.

It was true that Harry wasn't going back to Privet Drive for Christmas. Professor McGonagall had come around the week before, making a list of students who would be staying for the holidays, and Harry had signed up at once. He didn't feel sorry for himself at all; this would probably be the best Christmas he'd ever had. Ron and his brothers were staying, too, because Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were going to Romania to visit Charlie. Ben was also staying, as his mother didn't have the money for a plane ticket to get him.

When the Gryffindors and Slytherins left the dungeons at the end of Potions, they found a large fir tree blocking the corridor ahead. Two enormous feet sticking out at the bottom and a loud puffing sound told them that Hagrid was behind it.

"Hi, Hagrid, want any help?" Ron asked, sticking his head through the branches.

"Nah, I'm all right, thanks, Ron."

"Would you mind moving out of the way?" came Malfoys cold drawl from behind them. "Are you trying to earn some extra money, Weasley? Hoping to be gamekeeper yourself when you leave Hogwarts, I suppose - that hut of Hagrid's must seem like a palace compared to what your family's used to."

Ron dived at Malfoy just as Snape came up the stairs.

"WEASLEY!"

Ron let go of the front of Malfoy's robes.

"He was provoked, Professor Snape," said Hagrid, sticking his huge hairy face out from behind the tree. "Malfoy was insultin' his family."

"Be that as it may, fighting is against Hogwarts rules, Hagrid," said Snape silkily. "Five points from Gryffindor, Weasley, and be grateful it isn't more. Move along, all of you."

Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle pushed roughly past the tree, scattering needles everywhere and smirking.

"I'll get him," said Ron, grinding his teeth at Malfoy's back, "one of these days, I'll get him -"

"I hate them both," said Harry, "Malfoy and Snape."

"Come on, cheer up, it's nearly Christmas," said Hagrid. "Tell yeh what, come with me an' see the Great Hall, looks a treat."

So the three of them followed Hagrid and his tree off to - the Great Hall, where Professor McGonagall and Professor Flitwick were busy with the Christmas decorations.

"Ah, Hagrid, the last tree - put it in the far corner, would you?"

The hall looked spectacular. Festoons of holly and mistletoe hung all around the walls, and no less than twelve towering Christmas trees stood around the room, some sparkling with tiny icicles, some glittering with hundreds of candles.

"How many days you got left until yer holidays?" Hagrid asked.

"Just one," said Hermione.

"Yer not lookin' fer Nicolas Flamel, are yeh?" Hagrid suspiciously.

"Oh, we found out who he is ages ago," said Ron impressively, eyes still on Flitwick, who had golden bubbles blossoming out of his wand and was trailing them over the branches of the new tree. "And we know what that dog's guarding, it's a Philosopher's St -"

"_Shhhh_!" Hagrid looked around quickly to see if anyone was listening. "Don' go shoutin' about it, what's the matter with yeh?"

"We're not trying to," Harry said. "In fact, unless something happens to make us think that the Stone's in danger, we're not trying to mention it."

Hagrid visibly sagged in relief. The trio talked to Hagrid for a while before heading back to the Gryffindor common room.

**AN: Okay, so I posted this chapter shortly after I woke up. I've not got much to say except that I will work more on my writing as that went a little slack due to writer's block from where I was previously at.**

**Posted Dec. 13th, 2019**


	5. 5 - Quirrell interrupted

(replaces chapter 17 of Harry Potter and the Philosopher's / Sorcerer's Stone)

It was Quirrell.

"_You_!" gasped Harry.

Quirrell smiled. His face wasn't twitching at all.

"Me," he said calmly. "I wondered whether I'd be meeting you here, Potter."

"But I thought - Snape -"

"Severus?" Quirrell laughed, and it wasn't his usual quivering treble, either, but cold and sharp. "Yes, Severus does seem the type, doesn't he? So useful to have him swooping around like an overgrown bat. Next to him, who would suspect p-p-poor, st-stuttering P-Professor Quirrell?"

Harry couldn't take it in. This couldn't be true, it couldn't. "But Snape tried to kill me!"

"No, no, no. _I_ tried to kill you. Your friend Miss Granger accidentally knocked me over as she rushed to set fire to Snape at that Quidditch match. She broke my eye contact with you. Another few seconds and I'd have got you off that broom. I'd have managed it before then if Snape hadn't been muttering a countercurse, trying to save you."

"Snape was trying to _save_ me?"

"Of course," said Quirrell coolly. "Why do you think he wanted to referee your next match? He was trying to make sure I didn't do it again. Funny, really … he needn't have bothered. I couldn't do anything with Dumbledore watching. All the other teachers thought Snape was trying to stop Gryffindor from winning, he _did_ make himself unpopular … and what a waste of time, when after all that, I'm going to kill you tonight."

Quirrell snapped his fingers. Ropes sprang out of thin air and wrapped themselves tightly around Harry.

"You're too nosy to live, Potter. Scurrying around the school on Halloween like that, for all I knew you'd seen me coming to look at what was guarding the Stone."

"_You_ let the troll in?"

"Certainly. I have a special gift with trolls - you must have seen what I did to the one in the chamber back there? Unfortunately, while everyone else was running around looking for it, Snape, who already suspected me, went straight to the third floor to head me off - and not only did my troll fail to beat you to death, that three-headed dog didn't even manage to bite Snape's leg off properly.

"Now, wait quietly, Potter. I need to examine this interesting mirror."

It was only then that Harry realized what was standing behind Quirrell. It was the Mirror of Erised.

"This mirror is the key to finding the Stone," Quirrell murmured, tapping his way around the frame. "Trust Dumbledore to come up with something like this… but he's in London… I'll be far away by the time he gets back… "

All Harry could think of doing was to keep Quirrell talking and stop him from concentrating on the mirror.

"I saw you and Snape in the forest -" he blurted out. He vaguely remembered running into Ben and telling him what was happening tonight. He mentioned something about alerting people.

"Yes," said Quirrell idly, walking around the mirror to look at the back. "He was on to me by that time, trying to find out how far I'd got. He suspected me all along. Tried to frighten me - as though he could, when I had Lord Voldemort on my side… "

Quirrell came back out from behind the mirror and stared hungrily into it.

"I see the Stone… I'm presenting it to my master… but where is it?"

Harry struggled against the ropes binding him, but they didn't give. He _had_ to keep Quirrell from giving his whole attention to the mirror.

"But Snape always seemed to hate me so much."

"Oh, he does," said Quirrell casually, "heavens, yes. He was at Hogwarts with your father, didn't you know? They loathed each other. But he never wanted you _dead_."

"But I heard you a few days ago, sobbing - I thought Snape was threatening you… "

For the first time, a spasm of fear flitted across Quirrell's face.

"Sometimes," he said, "I find it hard to follow my master's instructions - he is a great wizard and I am weak -"

"You mean he was there in the classroom with you?" Harry gasped.

"He is with me wherever I go," said Quirrell quietly. "I met him when I traveled around the world. A foolish young man I was then, full of ridiculous ideas about good and evil. Lord Voldemort showed me how wrong I was. There is no good and evil, there is only power, and those too weak to seek it… . Since then, I have served him faithfully, although I have let him down many times. He has had to be very hard on me." Quirrell shivered suddenly. "He does not forgive mistakes easily. When I failed to steal the stone from Gringotts, he was most displeased. He punished me… decided he would have to keep a closer watch on me… "

Quirrell's voice trailed away. Harry was remembering his trip to Diagon Alley - how could he have been so stupid? He'd seen Quirrell there that very day, shaken hands with him in the Leaky Cauldron.

Quirrell cursed under his breath.

"I don't understand… is the Stone inside the mirror? Should I break it?"

Harry's mind was racing.

_What I want more than anything else in the world at the moment, _he thought_, is to find the Stone before Quirrell does. So if I look in the mirror, I should see myself finding it - which means I'll see where it's hidden! But how can I look without Quirrell realizing what I'm up to?_

He tried to edge to the left, to get in front of the glass without Quirrell noticing, but the ropes around his ankles were too tight: he tripped and fell over. Quirrell ignored him. He was still talking to himself. "What does this mirror do? How does it work? Help me, Master!"

And to Harry's horror, a voice answered, and the voice seemed to come from Quirrell himself.

"Use the boy… Use the boy… "

Quirrell rounded on Harry.

"Yes - Potter - come here."

He clapped his hands once, and the ropes binding Harry fell off. Harry got slowly to his feet.

"Come here," Quirrell repeated. "Look in the mirror and tell me what you see."

Harry walked toward him.

_I must lie, _he thought desperately. _I must look and lie about what I see, that's all._

Quirrell moved close behind him. Harry breathed in the funny smell that seemed to come from Quirrell's turban. He closed his eyes, stepped in front of the mirror, and opened them again.

He saw his reflection, pale and scared-looking at first. But a moment later, the reflection smiled at him. Ben walked into the surface and walked over to the reflection and patted him on the back before putting its hand into its pocket and pulled out a blood-red stone. Ben's reflection winked and put the stone back in its pocket before walking off. Somehow - incredibly - _he'd gotten the Stone_.

"Well?" said Quirrell impatiently. "What do you see?" Harry screwed up his courage.

"I see myself shaking hands with Dumbledore," he invented. "I - I've won the house cup for Gryffindor."

Quirrell cursed again.

"Get out of the way," he said. As Harry moved aside, his mind was racing. The Philosopher's Stone was safe! Dare he make a break for it?

But he hadn't walked five paces before a high voice spoke, though Quirrell wasn't moving his lips.

"He lies… He lies… "

Before Quirrell could turn around a familiar voice yelled, "Harry, get down!"

Harry did as the voice instructed and jumped to the ground. A pair of spells wizzed overhead before a thud was heard from the direction that Quirrell was in. Harry lifted his head to see Ben, Professor Flitwick, and Professor McGonagall standing in front of him.

"Are you alright, Mr. Potter?" McGonagall asked as she helped him to his feet.

"Yeah," Harry said. "I thought you didn't believe me."

McGonagall's lips thinned. "If _you_ had been more clear in your statements, I would have thought to take you more seriously. As it was, Mr. Black said he found the Mirror of Erised during the Christmas holidays and he found the Stone in his pocket."

"What!" Harry exclaimed, turning to Ben. "Why didn't you -"

"I didn't think you'd go after it," Ben stated. "I thought it'd confuse the thief and besides, nobody would think that a student had the Stone. Now then," he turned to the Professors, "we should be going to the Hospital Wing."

"I'll escort you," Professor Flitwick said, "if you don't need me here, Minerva?"

"I should be fine, Filius. Mr. Weasley and Ms. Granger should have alerted Albus by now. He'll be on his way."

As they walked through the rooms Harry thought of something. "Hang on … how're you here, Ben?"

Ben smiled. "I was talking to Professors Flitwick and McGonagall about possible times that you might have gone out when the alarm that Professor McGonagall put on the trapdoor went off."

Harry stared at Ben in shock. "There was an alarm on the trapdoor?"

"Only once Mr. Black told us of his fears," Flitwick said. "It was a rather obvious oversight that he pointed out. I wonder why Albus never recommended it."

Ben shrugged. They walked through the rooms in silence as they made their way to the Hospital Wing. They passed Dumbledore as he ran towards the room that contained the Mirror of Erised, but he didn't appear to see them. As they were getting closer to the Hospital Wing, Harry noticed that Ben was breathing heavier than normal.

"Are you alright?" Harry asked.

"Yeah, just … panicking now … I don't know why it's hitting me _now_, but I feel panic setting in."

"Can we do anything to help?" Flitwick asked.

"I - I don't think so … provided we get something to calm me down once we get to the Hospital Wing … I should be fine."

Flitwick nodded and set a faster pace towards the Hospital Wing, Harry and Ben needing to scramble a little bit to keep pace. By the time they reached the Hospital Wing, all three were slightly winded from their pace.

As they walked in, they saw Ron and Hermione unconscious being attended to by Madame Pomfrey. She turned to the trio as they walked through the doors. She stood and walked to them, turning to Flitwick. "Right, what is it now?"

"Mr. Potter was being held in the third floor corridor by Quirinus," Flitwick said. "Mr. Black is panicking and in need of a calming draught."

Pomfrey nodded, flicking her wand at her cabinet. A filled vial flew out into her hand as she turned towards Ben. His breathing was becoming increasingly erratic. She handed the vial to him and told him, "Drink this."

He nodded, then downed the potion in one gulp.

Pomfrey scanned Harry with a wave of her wand, tutting lightly. She turned to Flitwick. "Mr. Potter has minor injuries, but is mostly exhausted. He'll need to spend the night here." Her eyes flick over to Ben, who seemed to be sagging in exhaustion. "Mr. Black should as well."

"I'll leave them in your hands," Flitwick said. "Good night, Mr. Potter, Mr. Black."

"G'Night," Harry said as he laid done on a bed, drinking the potion that Pomfrey had given him.

Ben nodded sleepily, nearly falling onto his chosen bed.

As he felt the potion start to take effect, Harry fell asleep.

* * *

Harry made his way down to the end-of-year feast alone that night. Even though Gryffindor had won the Quidditch Cup by narrowly defeating Ravenclaw, they had lost many points over the year, so the Great Hall was decked out in the Slytherin colors of green and silver to celebrate Slytherin's winning the house cup for the seventh year in a row. A huge banner showing the Slytherin serpent covered the wall behind the High Table.

When Harry walked in there was a sudden hush, and then everybody started talking loudly at once. He slipped into a seat between Ron and Hermione at the Gryffindor table and tried to ignore the fact that people were standing up to look at him.

Fortunately, Dumbledore arrived moments later. The babble died away.

"Another year gone!" Dumbledore said cheerfully. "And I must trouble you with an old man's wheezing waffle before we sink our teeth into our delicious feast. What a year it has been! Hopefully your heads are all a little fuller than they were … you have the whole summer ahead to get them nice and empty before next year starts … .

"Now, as I understand it, the house cup here needs awarding, and the points stand thus: In fourth place, Gryffindor, with three hundred and twelve points; in third, Hufflepuff, with three hundred and fifty-two; Ravenclaw has four hundred and twenty-two and Slytherin, four hundred and seventy- two."

A storm of cheering and stamping broke out from the Slytherin table. Harry could see Draco Malfoy banging his goblet on the table. It was a sickening sight.

"Yes, Yes, well done, Slytherin," said Dumbledore. "However, recent events must be taken into account."

The room went very still. The Slytherins' smiles faded a little.

"Ahem," said Dumbledore. "I have a few last-minute points to dish out. Let me see. Yes …

"First - to Mr. Benjamin Black … " said Dumbledore, causing minor muttering among the tables. " … for steadfast loyalty and a very quick wit, I award Ravenclaw house fifty points."

The Ravenclaws applauded as Ben buried his face in his hands, clearly bright red. As those who could count loudly proclaimed, Ravenclaw had just tied with Slytherin.

"Second - to Mr. Ronald Weasley … "

Ron went purple in the face; he looked like a radish with a bad sunburn.

" … for the best-played game of chess Hogwarts has seen in many years, I award Gryffindor house fifty points."

Gryffindor cheers nearly raised the bewitched ceiling; the stars overhead seemed to quiver. Percy could be heard telling the other prefects, "My brother, you know! My youngest brother! Got past McGonagall's giant chess set!"

At last there was silence again.

"Third - to Miss Hermione Granger … for the use of cool logic in the face of fire, I award Gryffindor house fifty points."

Hermione buried her face in her arms; Harry strongly suspected she had burst into tears. Gryffindors up and down the table were beside themselves - they were a hundred points up.

"Fourth - to Mr. Harry Potter … " said Dumbledore. The room went deadly quiet. " … for pure nerve and outstanding courage, I award Gryffindor house sixty points."

The din was deafening. Those who could add up while yelling themselves hoarse knew that Gryffindor now had four hundred and seventy-two points - exactly the same as Slytherin and Ravenclaw. They had all three tied for the house cup - if only Dumbledore had given Harry or Ben just one more point.

Dumbledore raised his hand. The room gradually fell silent.

"There are all kinds of courage," said Dumbledore, smiling. "It takes a great deal of bravery to stand up to our enemies, but just as much to stand up to our friends. I therefore award ten points to Mr. Neville Longbottom."

Someone standing outside the Great Hall might well have thought some sort of explosion had taken place, so loud was the noise that erupted from the Gryffindor table. Harry, Ron, and Hermione stood up to yell and cheer as Neville, white with shock, disappeared under a pile of people hugging him. He had never won so much as a point for Gryffindor before. Harry, still cheering, nudged Ron in the ribs and pointed at Malfoy, who couldn't have looked more stunned and horrified if he'd just had the Body-Bind Curse put on him. When he looked around, Harry also noticed Ben giving a standing ovation.

"Which means," Dumbledore called over the storm of applause, for even Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff were celebrating the downfall of Slytherin, "we need a little change of decoration."

He clapped his hands. In an instant, the green hangings became scarlet and the silver became gold; the huge Slytherin serpent vanished and a towering Gryffindor lion took its place. Snape was shaking Professor McGonagall's hand, with a horrible, forced smile. He caught Harry's eye and Harry knew at once that Snape's feelings toward him hadn't changed one jot. This didn't worry Harry. It seemed as though life would be back to normal next year, or as normal as it ever was at Hogwarts.

It was the best evening of Harry's life, better than winning at Quidditch, or Christmas, or knocking out mountain trolls … he would never, ever forget tonight.

* * *

Harry had almost forgotten that the exam results were still to come, but come they did. To their great surprise, both he and Ron passed with very good marks; Harry managed to get in the top ten; Hermione, of course, had the best grades of the first years, with Ben coming in a close second. Even Neville scraped through, his good Herbology mark making up for his abysmal Potions one. They had hoped that Goyle, who was almost as stupid as he was mean, might be thrown out, but he had passed, too. It was a shame, but as Ron said, you couldn't have everything in life.

And suddenly, their wardrobes were empty, their trunks were packed, Neville's toad was found lurking in a corner of the toilets; notes were handed out to all students, warning them not to use magic over the holidays ("I always hope they'll forget to give us these," said Fred Weasley sadly); Hagrid was there to take them down to the fleet of boats that sailed across the lake; they were boarding the Hogwarts Express; talking and laughing as the countryside became greener and tidier; eating Bettie Bott's Every Flavor Beans as they sped past Muggle towns; pulling off their wizard robes and putting on jackets and coats; pulling into platform nine and three-quarters at King's Cross Station.

It took quite a while for them all to get off the platform. A wizened old guard was up by the ticket barrier, letting them go through the gate in twos and threes so they didn't attract attention by all bursting out of a solid wall at once and alarming the Muggles.

"You must come and stay this summer," said Ron, "all of you - I'll send you an owl."

"Thanks," said Harry, "I'll need something to look forward to."

Ben smirked. "My mum and I are planning to have you spend the first part of the summer with us. If she managed to convince the Dursleys, you may not need to return to them."

Harry's eyes were wide with shock. People jostled them as they moved forward toward the gateway back to the Muggle world. Some of them called:

"Bye, Harry!"

"See you, Potter!"

"Still famous," said Ron, grinning at him.

"Not where I'm going, if Ben's mom didn't convince my family, I promise you," said Harry.

He, Ron, Ben, and Hermione passed through the gateway together.

"There he is, Mom, there he is, look!"

It was Ginny Weasley, Ron's younger sister, but she wasn't pointing at Ron.

"Harry Potter!" she squealed. "Look, Mom! I can see - "

"Be quiet, Ginny, and it's rude to point."

Mrs. Weasley smiled down at them.

"Busy year?" she said.

"Very," said Harry. "Thanks for the fudge and the sweater, Mrs. Weasley."

"Oh, it was nothing, dear."

"MUM!" Ben shouted, startling Harry.

He was waving an arm above his head. A blonde woman came over through the throng of people, smiling at them in a manner reminiscent of Ben. Harry noticed she had a warm, kind face with slightly wavy hair. She embraced Ben with a tight hug.

"Did you have a good term?" she asked Ben.

"Yes," Ben replied. He then noticed everyone was staring. "Oh! Apologies. This is my mother, Anna Williams. Mum, these are my friends and Mrs. Weasley."

"A pleasure to meet you all," Mrs. Williams said.

"Why do you have a different last name than your son?" Ron asked.

"I remarried after my husband died," she replied.

"Oh, you poor dear," said Mrs. Weasley, extending her hand. "I'm Molly, by the way."

Mrs. Williams took her hand and shook it, smiling. "Anna, as my son stated."

"So mum, did you manage to get a hold of Harry's relatives?" Ben asked.

"Yes I did. We've got full permission to take him with us for the first month of the summer if he wants," Mrs. Williams replied, a frown forming as she discussed the Dursleys.

Harry smiled widely. "Great! I'd love to."

Ben beamed. "Excellent! Well, it's been a pleasure meeting you, Ginny, Mrs. Weasley. Ron, Hermione, we'll see you later."

Harry spoke next. "See you over the summer, then."

"Hope you have - er - a good holiday," Hermione said, looking a little overwhelmed at everything that went on.

"Oh, we will," Harry said. "This summer's going to be great."

With their goodbyes said, Harry, Ben, and Mrs. Williams found a quiet spot, where she brought out a hairbrush and cast a spell on it.

"Now, Harry, I need you to keep a hold of this brush at all times while we're in transit, can you do that?"

"Yes … "

Mrs. Williams nodded. "Good, it should be activating soon."

Not long after she said that, Harry felt as though a hook just behind his navel had been suddenly jerked irresistibly forward. The world swirled around him.

**AN: That's the end of the first book, onto the next! In all honesty, I haven't been as successful with my writing as i have wanted to be. I'm still able to post for the next updates, but I've become a bit stuck as I don't know when I want to pick back up in the story on what I'm ahead on. I hope you've had a wonderful holiday period and see you next year.**

**Uploaded Dec. 27th, 2019**


	6. 6 - Summer with the Williams

(replaces chapter 1 of Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets)

Not for the first time, Harry was surprised that he ended up visiting the Williams house. His friend, Benjamin Black, was a gracious host. He had many Muggle books, comic books, and movies that he had insisted Harry at least try. Harry found that he liked some of them, was alright with others, and disliked a few. Whatever Ben was doing something that he enjoyed, Harry was always invited to join in.

The house itself was in the middle of nowhere as far as Harry could tell. It was two stories with four bedrooms made of wood with a metal roof. It had a large porch that wrapped most of the way around the house. It was big and spacious, too, which Harry supposed they could do as they were in America. It was also very Muggle, but unlike the Dursleys', it was full of warmth and, more often than not, slightly dirty.

The members of the Williams family were all very kind to Harry. Charles Williams, Ben's stepfather, was a dark-haired, slightly overweight, good man that seemed to not think before he spoke. He was perfectly reasonable most of the time, but had strange and high expectations for the younger generation. Because of this, he and Ben had a difficult relationship but not a horrible one. He didn't really interact a lot with the Ben or Harry throughout the summer.

Anna Williams was a completely different person. She interacted with them and her other children very regularly and without many of the strange ideas that Mr. Williams had. A kind and loving woman who spoke her mind regularly, and loudly if sufficiently disturbed, Harry found that she would tell him stories of his parents' days at Hogwarts whenever Harry was with her, though she was not close to either of them being younger than the pair. She was horrified at how Snape taught Potions and took it upon herself to teach them both the basics and some techniques for brewing that Snape never taught.

Ben's half-sisters, Joy and Hope Williams, were as different as night and day. Joy, the elder of the sisters, had her father's hair with her mother's smile and was very outgoing and social and would constantly be out with her friends or have her friends over to visit the house. Hope, however, looked very much like her mother and was a quiet soul, more content to, like her brother, stay at home and read. When Harry asked Ben about his sisters one day, he laughed.

"They've always been like that," Harry was told. "I think of myself as the medium between them. I'm not as outgoing or ambitious as Joy, but I'm not as, oh what's the word I was - ah! reserved, I think or reckless as Hope. I don't bring drama, but am able to ride it out and attempt to work it out."

The family also had some pets. Mabel and Rose were the dogs, mixed breeds and very sweet, if a little loud when people came. Ben didn't really interact with them much. When Harry asked why, Ben explained that he had been bitten on the back on two separate occasions from a dog that he did nothing to provoke, making him a little leery of dogs in general. They also had cats, who were named Robin, Tiger, and Jessica. Robin was the oldest and a manx, rather mischievous and he was also an excellent hunter. Tiger was the middle with a solid orange coat and generally a little skittish. Ben seemed to be Tiger's favorite human though as he would often climb onto his lap when he sat down. Jessica was the smallest and youngest, a calico, who often hidden but was rather sweet.

Mr. Williams was an artist who had his shop a short walk away from the house, although most of the family didn't really go out there. Mrs. Williams worked in her gardens, which covered a large amount of the crest of the hill on which the family lived. Whenever he was called to help with the garden, Ben would grumble a little but, especially when Harry volunteered to help, would stop and do what his mother told him to do.

The family would do things together often. Whether they be playing board games, watching movies on the television, or going to the movie theatre, there was generally something that the family did together every few days.

Ben's friends from the muggle world came around to visit occasionally. They were very interesting people. Ben affectionately called them the 'nerd squad', even if his friends rolled their eyes at the title. The first time this happened, Harry had asked if they disliked the title. The group all said that they only disliked the title of the group, not the fact that they were being called nerds. Ben himself said he came up with the title after people from their school called them the group of nerds.

Harry and Ben had been sending letters to their friends from Hogwarts all summer. The past week though, Harry noticed that all his friends seemed to have stopped sending letters to him. He had only noticed because Ben had mentioned that Hermione told him to check with Harry about something she said in a previous letter that Harry didn't get when they were having breakfast with Ben's family.

"That's strange," Ben said, frowning in thought. "Do you think that someone's interfering with your mail?"

Harry thought about it. It seemed possible, but he couldn't think of anybody who would really care if he got mail.

"Well, there's nothing we can do about it for now," Ben said. "Now, what'd you like to do?"

Harry looked at Ben in confusion. "I'm sorry?"

"For your birthday. I mean, is there anything special that you'd like to do or is it going to be a rather quiet affair?"

Harry thought a bit about it. He honestly wasn't used to celebrating his birthday due to the Dursleys never acknowledging that it was his birthday.

Mr. Williams decided to speak up. "You should have a big party."

Ben rolled his eyes. "We don't have as many friends as you did when you were our age, Charles. And even if we did, we couldn't get them here in time for any party."

"I guess that's true," Mr. Williams admitted grudgingly.

Joy was bouncing in her seat. "We could go out to do something!"

"Staying in's good," Hope said in a quiet voice.

"It's up to Harry," Mrs. Williams said, smiling. "It's his birthday, after all."

Harry thought about it. There weren't really any movies out that he wanted to see. He also didn't want to hang out in a place with a bunch of strangers. He really didn't want to have the Williams go out of the way for him. With that, he decided.

"I'd like to stay here and celebrate, please."

Ben and Mrs. Williams nodded, Hope smiled widely, and Joy and Mr. Williams sulked a little.

Ben made sure that Harry was enjoying himself the entire day. They played board games and watched television shows that Harry was interested in watching, even if Ben had previously stated he wasn't a big fan of them. Hope was frequently included in these activities, even though she was much younger than either of the boys. Mrs. Williams had them take the day off from the chores that they normally did around the house. Joy was recruited by Mrs. Williams to help in their stead. Mr. Williams was a work for most of the day. After dinner, Harry was presented with a cake and some gifts from the family. Ben had given him a book on hexes and curses. Mr. Williams gave him a piece of art from one of the shows that he was a vendor at. Mrs. Williams gave him a book on Potions that Harry avidly read through. When he did return to reality, there was no argument over who gets to watch the telly. All in all, when Harry decided to go upstairs to the room in which he was staying, he honestly couldn't picture a better birthday. He mused about completing that book.

When Harry entered the room, however, he noticed an unexpected guest sitting on his bed.

**AN: A new year! Hopefully will be better than the last! (looks at the news) ... Well, maybe socially? Or in my writing? Either way, this is the new chapter! Mostly my own writing, too! As I have always been meaning to say, reviews are appreciated, favorites are encouraging, and I only own the idea, not the franchise.**

**Uploaded Jan. 10th, 2020**


	7. 7 - Birthday Suprises

(replaces chapter 2 of Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets)

Harry managed not to shout out, but it was a close thing. The little creature on the bed had large, bat-like ears and bulging green eyes the size of tennis balls. Harry knew instantly that this was what had been watching him out of the garden hedge that morning.

As they stared at each other, Harry heard Ben and Mr. Williams getting into an argument.

"And why would I do that?" Ben's voice stated.

The creature slipped off the bed and bowed so low that the end of its long, thin nose touched the carpet. Harry noticed that it was wearing what looked like an old pillowcase, with rips for arm- and leg-holes.

"Er - hello," said Harry nervously.

"Harry Potter!" said the creature in a high-pitched voice Harry suspected would carry down the stairs. "So long has Dobby wanted to meet you, sir … Such an honor it is … "

"Th-thank you," said Harry, edging along the wall and sinking into the desk chair, next to Hedwig, who was asleep on her large cage. He wanted to ask, "What are you?" but thought it would sound too rude, so instead he said, "Who are you?"

"Dobby, sir. Just Dobby. Dobby the house-elf," said the creature.

"Oh — really?" said Harry. "Er — I don't want to be rude or anything, but — this isn't a great time for me to have a house-elf in my bedroom."

Mr. Williams voice indistinctly sounded from the kitchen. The elf hung his head.

"Not that I'm not pleased to meet you," said Harry quickly, "but, er, is there any particular reason you're here?"

"Oh, yes, sir," said Dobby earnestly. "Dobby has come to tell you, sir … it is difficult, sir … Dobby wonders where to begin … "

"Sit down," said Harry politely, pointing at the bed.

To his horror, the elf burst into tears.

"_S-sit down!_" he wailed. "_Never … never ever … _"

Harry thought he heard the voices downstairs falter.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, "I didn't mean to offend you or anything - "

"Offend Dobby!" choked the elf. "Dobby has never been asked to sit down by a wizard - like an _equal_ \- "

Harry, trying to say "Shh!" and look comforting at the same time, ushered Dobby back onto the bed where he sat hiccoughing, looking like a large and very ugly doll. At last he managed to control himself, and sat with his great eyes fixed on Harry in an expression of watery adoration.

"You can't have met many decent wizards," said Harry, trying to cheer him up.

Dobby shook his head. Then, without warning, he leapt up and started banging his head furiously on the window, shouting, "_Bad_ Dobby! _Bad_ Dobby!"

"Don't - what are you doing?" Harry hissed, springing up and pulling Dobby back onto the bed - Hedwig had woken up with a particularly loud screech and had taken flight off of the top of her cage.

"Dobby had to punish himself, sir," said the elf, who had gone slightly cross-eyed. "Dobby almost spoke ill of his family, sir … "

"Your family?"

"The wizard family Dobby serves, sir … Dobby is a house-elf - bound to serve one house and one family forever … "

"Do they know you're here?" asked Harry curiously.

Dobby shuddered.

"Oh, no, sir, no … Dobby will have to punish himself most grievously for coming to see you, sir. Dobby will have to shut his ears in the oven door for this. If they ever knew, sir - "

"But won't they notice if you shut your ears in the oven door?"

"Dobby doubts it, sir. Dobby is always having to punish himself for something, sir. They lets Dobby get on with it, sir. Sometimes they reminds me to do extra punishments … "

"But why don't you leave? Escape?"

"A house-elf must be set free, sir. And the family will never set Dobby free … Dobby will serve the family until he dies, sir … " Harry stared.

"And I thought I had it bad while I was at my relative's house," he said. "This makes the Dursleys sound almost human. Can't anyone help you? Can't I?"

Dobby dissolved again into wails of gratitude.

"Harry Potter asks if he can help Dobby … Dobby has heard of your greatness, sir, but of your goodness, Dobby never knew … "

Harry, who was feeling distinctly hot in the face, said, "Whatever you've heard about my greatness is a load of rubbish. I'm not even top of my year at Hogwarts; that's Hermione, she's brilliant. Although, Ben's very close to the top spot."

"Harry Potter is humble and modest," said Dobby reverently, his orb-like eyes aglow. "Harry Potter speaks not of his triumph over He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named - "

"Voldemort?" said Harry.

Dobby clapped his hands over his bat ears and moaned, "Ah, speak not the name, sir! Speak not the name!"

"Sorry," said Harry quickly. "I know lots of people don't like it. My friend Ron has the same problem with me saying it."

Dobby leaned toward Harry, his eyes wide as headlights.

"Dobby heard tell," he said hoarsely, "that Harry Potter met the Dark Lord for a second time just weeks ago … that Harry Potter escaped _yet again_."

Harry nodded and Dobby's eyes suddenly shone with tears.

"Ah, sir," he gasped, dabbing his face with a corner of the grubby pillowcase he was wearing.

"Harry Potter is valiant and bold! He has braved so many dangers already! But Dobby has come to protect Harry Potter, to warn him, even if he does have to shut his ears in the oven door later … _Harry Potter must not go back to Hogwarts_."

There was a silence broken only by the faint sounds of an argument drifting up from downstairs.

"W-what?" Harry stammered. "But I've got to go back - term starts on September first. It's all that's keeping me going. You don't know what it's like here. I don't belong here. I belong in your world - at Hogwarts."

"No, no, no," squeaked Dobby, shaking his head so hard his ears flapped. "Harry Potter must stay where he is safe. He is too great, too good, to lose. If Harry Potter goes back to Hogwarts, he will be in mortal danger."

"Why?" said Harry in surprise.

"There is a plot, Harry Potter. A plot to make most terrible things happen at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry this year," whispered Dobby, suddenly trembling all over. "Dobby has known it for months, sir. Harry Potter must not put himself in peril. He is too important, sir!"

"What terrible things?" said Harry at once. "Who's plotting them?"

Dobby made a funny choking noise and then banged his head frantically against the wall.

"All right!" cried Harry, grabbing the elf's arm to stop him. "You can't tell me. I understand. But why are you warning _me_?" A sudden, unpleasant thought struck him. "Hang on - this hasn't got anything to do with Vol - sorry - with You-Know-Who, has it? You could just shake or nod," he added hastily as Dobby's head tilted worryingly close to the wall again.

Slowly, Dobby shook his head.

"Not - not _He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named_, sir -"

But Dobby's eyes were wide and he seemed to be trying to give Harry a hint. Harry, however, was completely lost.

"He hasn't got a brother, has he?"

Dobby shook his head, his eyes wider than ever.

"Well then, I can't think who else would have a chance of making horrible things happen at Hogwarts," said Harry. "I mean, there's Dumbledore, for one thing - you know who Dumbledore is, don't you?"

Dobby bowed his head.

"Albus Dumbledore is the greatest Headmaster Hogwarts has ever had. Dobby knows it, sir. Dobby has heard Dumbledore's powers rival those of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named at the height of his strength. But, sir" - Dobby's voice dropped to an urgent whisper - "there are powers Dumbledore doesn't … powers no decent wizard … "

And before Harry could stop him, Dobby bounded off the bed, seized the desk lamp, and started beating himself around the head with earsplitting yelps.

A sudden silence fell downstairs. Two seconds later Harry heard Ben calling to his mother. "No, it's fine, I'll check to see if he's alright. If he's not, I'll yell down to you."

As Harry turned towards the door, it opened to reveal Ben looking slightly panicked, eyes widening as he spotted Dobby, frozen in the middle of his act of self punishment.

Ben turned out the door and yelled, "He's fine! Just ran into something he wasn't expecting to. I'll stay with him to see if he's still alright."

Mrs. Williams' voiced drifted upstairs stating her affirmation of the situation.

Ben turned back to the occupants of the room with a raised eyebrow. "Could somebody explain the situation to me, please?"

Harry gestured to Dobby. "Dobby the house-elf came to warn me of a terrible danger is coming to Hogwarts. He's trying to convince me not to go back."

Ben frowned in thought. "It's less safe for you not to have an education and Hogwarts is generally acknowledge to be one of the premiere magical schools in the world. Plus, how'd anyone be able to convince his friends not to take him back to it?"

"Friends who stopped _writing_ to Harry Potter?" said Dobby slyly.

"I know there's something preventing - wait a minute," said Harry, frowning. "How do you know my friends mail's not getting to me?"

Dobby shuffled his feet.

"Harry Potter mustn't be angry with Dobby. Dobby did it for the best - "

"_Have you been stopping my letters?_"

"Dobby has them here, sir," said the elf. Stepping nimbly out of Harry's reach, he pulled a wad of envelopes from the inside of the pillowcase he was wearing. Harry could make out Hermione's neat writing, Ron's untidy scrawl, and even a scribble that looked as though it was from the Hogwarts gamekeeper, Hagrid.

Dobby blinked anxiously up at Harry.

"Harry Potter mustn't be angry … Dobby hoped … if Harry Potter thought his friends had forgotten him … Harry Potter might not want to go back to school, sir - eek!"

Unnoticed by Dobby, Ben had pulled his wand out and cast a spell that caused the letters to fly out of his hands. Ben deftly caught them, putting them into his pocket.

"You'll get them later, Harry," Ben said, still looking at Dobby, who was staring in wide-eyed shock at Ben.

"Won't you get in trouble?" Harry asked.

Ben shook his head. "Even if there were proper charms on my wand to alert a Ministry, they wouldn't be able to tell who did the spell here. It could have been my mother, after all."

Dobby's eyes went even wider, if that was possible. "Dobby didn't know Harry Potter lived in a magic household!"

"I don't," Harry said. "I'm just visiting for part of the holiday."

With this revelation, Dobby disappeared with a loud crack. Ben waited for a moment, then handed Harry his letters.

"Here you go. I hope you've had a happy birthday."

Harry nodded while staring at his letters.

**AN: Wow, I didn't expect to be this far. I expected to be in a different place in the story. I managed to beat my writer's block and have some chapters to be refined later. **

**On a more personal note, I was thinking of starting a [redacted due to guidelines (sounds like an eeveelution)] account. If I did set this up, I would include previews of the next chapter of a fic a few days before it release, allowing discussion about what I'm trying to accomplish after this story, and editing from a person who likes stories with proper grammar. I will not be upset or not post stories anymore if I don't have a quota filled, this would be a way to easy my finances while providing you with more content. I'm not trying to profit off of other peoples work, just trying to help people enjoy life in a small way.**

**Uploaded Jan. 24th, 2020**


	8. 8 - To the Burrow

(replaces chapter 3 of Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets)

The next day, Ben told his mother about what happened.

"Ah, well, that's interesting. You said the house elf was called Dobby, right?" Mrs. Williams said.

"Yes."

"Well, that explains the problem with your mail. Doesn't really help identify what the problem is. I don't remember anyone I knew having a house elf named Dobby."

Ben and Harry locked eyes with mirrored expressions of confusion for a moment before Ben asked, "Who'd you know that had a house elf?"

She smiled wistfully. "Your father, for one. Kreature was his name, or is, he might still be alive."

Ben stared in shock. "I own a house elf?"

"Yes."

He stood there, open mouthed.

Harry ignored him for a moment to ask a question. "So, what do you think of Dobby's hint about who it is?"

Mrs. Williams pondered it. "Hmm. Well, thinking about it … maybe a part of Voldemort or a different version of him? Maybe not him but a Death Eater? I can't say for sure."

"Death Eater?" Ben asked.

His mother frowned. "A marked follower of Voldemort, what are they telling you these days."

Harry shrugged. He noticed Ben shrugged too.

"So, when did the Weasleys want to have you both over?" Mrs. Williams asked. "I thought it was this Monday."

Ben nodded. "According to Ron, they'd like to have us over starting on Monday."

"Right, we'd better have everything ready before five pm."

Harry frowned. "Why?"

"Different time zones. They're five hours ahead of us here."

"Right."

* * *

Harry's last week at the Williams house was one of melancholies. Hope was quietly sad that the sibling most like her was going away for another year. Joy was upset that she didn't spend more time with her elder brother, even if it was through her own machinations. Mrs. Williams was constantly reminding them to pack certain things and when Ben inevitably grumbled that he'd remember, all she had to do was look at him with a brow raised before he'd crumble and pack something else that he was taking.

On the day that they were going to Britain, Harry woke up early in the morning without prompting. He noted that he could hear what sounded like both Ben and Mrs. Williams moving around downstairs. Harry gathered the last of his things together before doing his morning routine. As he went downstairs for breakfast with his things, Harry heard the sounds of Mr. Williams starting to get up. Hope and Joy still seemed to be asleep.

As Harry entered the kitchen, he saw Mrs. Williams and Ben eating at the table and food on the stove. Mrs. Williams was first to notice him.

"Help yourself, Harry."

"Thanks," he replied.

"So, excited to go to the Weasleys'?" she asked as he gathered his breakfast.

"Very," Harry responded.

"That's good. Ben's been telling me that he thinks it will be an enjoyable experience."

Ben rolled his eyes. "I said that I think I'll like it there. Must you portray me as being incredibly formal?"

Mrs. Williams smiled, mirth dancing in her eyes.

"Oh, that reminds me," she said. "Molly called earlier and asked that you both be sent over as soon as possible."

Harry frowned at that. He asked "Why?"

"She didn't say, although she had an amused tone as she was explaining it."

_Seems like the twins are more related to their mother than they might think_, Harry thought. As Harry contemplated this, Mr. Williams entered the kitchen, grumbled good morning to everyone, and gathered some food for himself from the remainder.

"Hope and Joy still need to eat, Charles," Ben stated, not even looking up from his food.

Mr. Williams grumbled something Harry couldn't hear.

* * *

Harry's last moments in the Williams household was spent making sure that he packed everything that he had taken with him. Ben alternated between periods of rest and activity as he remembered more things that he wanted to bring. Whenever he couldn't find something, he'd go into what he called 'panic mode' which was essentially him collapsing into a panic frenzy trying to figure out where something was as he became increasingly more worried and tearful. Harry thought the title was rather appropriate.

Joy and Hope spent most of their time hanging out with Harry and Ben, often helping Ben find things that he couldn't locate. Mrs. Williams once came in with some last minute things he was looking for, commenting how he'd lose his head if it wasn't attached to his body, which he readily agreed with.

As it neared 9, Harry and Ben had both finished packing. Mr. Williams left for work much earlier, saying a nice goodbye to the pair before he did. The family gathered in the living room to say their farewells.

"Bye, big brother," Joy said, sniffling slightly as she hugged him.

"Bye, Joy."

"Bye, Ben," Hope said. Harry noticed that she was edging out of the room.

"Oh no," Ben said, catching her and wrapping her in a hug, which caused her to squeak slightly. "You don't get to leave until I hug you, sweet sister."

After letting her go, Ben turned to Mrs. Williams. Harry noticed he had tears in his eyes. Mother and son wrapped each other in an enormous hug.

"Bye, mum," Ben's muffled voice said in a tone close to tears.

"Bye, Ben," Mrs. Williams said softly.

Ben stood next to Harry and grabbed hold of the portkey.

"Bye, Harry. I was nice to meet you," Joy said.

"Bye," Hope said quietly.

"Bye, Harry. Remember that you're welcome at our house at any time," said Mrs. Williams.

"Bye, Harry."

"Good-bye."

"Thank you," Harry said. The portkey activated just moments after he finished saying that. The world disappeared in a swirl of multicolored lights. As the world reformed, Harry felt himself land heavily, collapsing to the ground. He noted that Ben, unlike last time, managed to land more firmly, even if he staggered a little.  
"Still annoying!" Ben declared. He refocused, looking at the Weasleys' house for the first time. "Wow."

Wow was right. It looked as though it had once been a large stone pigpen, but extra rooms had been added here and there until it was several stories high and so crooked it looked as though it were held up by magic (which Harry reminded himself, it probably was). Four or five chimneys were perched on top of the red roof. A lopsided sign stuck in the ground near the entrance read, THE BURROW. Around the front door lay a jumble of rubber boots and a very rusty cauldron. Several fat brown chickens were pecking their way around the yard.

"Well," Ben said, recovering slightly. "It's not the prettiest, but it's definitely very creative."

"Yeah," Harry replied, noticing a figure walking over to meet them. Mrs. Weasley was rushing across the yard, scattering chickens, with a large, kind smile on her face.

"I'm very pleased to see you two," she said. "Come in and have some lunch."

She turned and walked back into the house and Harry and Ben, after exchanging glances, Harry a bit incredulously, Ben in amusement, followed her.

The kitchen was small and rather cramped. There was a scrubbed wooden table and chairs in the middle, and Harry sat down on the edge of his seat, looking around. He had never been in a fully wizard household before.

The clock on the wall opposite him had only one hand and no numbers at all. Written around the edge were things like Time to make tea, Time to feed the chickens, and You're late. Books were stacked three deep on the mantelpiece, books with titles like Charm Your Own Cheese, Enchantment in Baking, and One Minute Feasts — It's Magic! And unless Harry's ears were deceiving him, the old radio next to the sink had just announced that coming up was "Witching Hour, with the popular singing sorceress, Celestina Warbeck."

Mrs. Weasley was clattering around, preparing lunch, although she seemed a little distracted by something.

"Everything alright, Mrs. Weasley?" Ben asked.

Mrs. Weasley looked at Ben, exasperation on her face. "Ron, Fred, and George were going to try to fly our car across the Atlantic after Harry stopped answering his letters. I heard them planning it this morning. They've been sent out to de-gnome the garden. Honestly, those boys."

Mrs. Weasley started grumbling under her breath. Phrases such as "don't know what you were thinking of," and "never would have believed it" were thrown around. Ben seemed quite amused by that, though he kept quiet.

As Harry was thinking of something to say, the back door opened. Ron and the twins walked in, grumbling under their breath. They only noticed their guests when they sat down at the table.

"Harry! Ben! I didn't know you were coming today!" Ron said, smiling widely.

"We just got here," Ben stated. "Mum mentioned something about a surprise."

Harry looked at Ben, confused. He didn't remember Mrs. Williams mentioning anything like that. Before Harry could question him, though, the front door opened.

"He's back!" said George. "Dad's home!"

They all turned as Mr. Weasley walked into the kitchen and slumped in a kitchen chair and took his glasses off then his eyes closed, not really taking in the amount of people at the table. He was a thin man, going bald, but the little hair he had was as red as any of his children's. He was wearing long green robes, which were dusty and travel-worn.

"What a night," he mumbled, groping for the teapot as they all sat down around him. "Nine raids. Nine! And old Mundungus Fletcher tried to put a hex on me when I had my back turned … "

Mr. Weasley took a long gulp of tea and sighed.

"Find anything, Dad?" said Fred eagerly.

"All I got were a few shrinking door keys and a biting kettle," yawned Mr. Weasley. "There was some pretty nasty stuff that wasn't my department, though. Mortlake was taken away for questioning about some extremely odd ferrets, but that's the Committee on Experimental Charms, thank goodness … "

"Why would anyone bother making door keys shrink?" said George.

"Just Muggle-baiting," sighed Mr. Weasley. "Sell them a key that keeps shrinking to nothing so they can never find it when they need it. Of course, it's very hard to convict anyone because no Muggle would admit their key keeps shrinking - they'll insist they just keep losing it. Bless them, they'll go to any lengths to ignore magic, even if it's staring them in the face … But the things our lot have taken to enchanting, you wouldn't believe -"

"LIKE CARS, FOR INSTANCE?"

Mrs. Weasley had appeared, holding a long poker like a sword. Mr. Weasley's eyes jerked open. He stared guiltily at his wife.

"C-cars, Molly, dear?"

"Yes, Arthur, cars," said Mrs. Weasley, her eyes flashing. "Imagine a wizard buying a rusty old car and telling his wife all he wanted to do with it was take it apart to see how it worked, while really he was enchanting it to make it fly."

Mr. Weasley blinked.

"Well, dear, I think you'll find that he would be quite within the law to do that, even if - er - he maybe would have done better to, um, tell his wife the truth … There's a loophole in the law, you'll find … As long as he wasn't intending to fly the car, the fact that the car could fly wouldn't -"

"Arthur Weasley, you made sure there was a loophole when you wrote that law!" shouted Mrs. Weasley. "Just so you could carry on tinkering with all that Muggle rubbish in your shed! And for your information, your sons were going to go across the Atlantic to get Harry in the car you weren't intending to fly!"

"Harry?" said Mr. Weasley blankly. "Harry who?"

He looked around, saw Harry and Ben, and jumped.

"Good lord, is it Harry Potter? Very pleased to meet you, Ron's told us so much about -"

"_Your sons nearly flew that car to Ben's house and back last night!_" shouted Mrs. Weasley. "What have you got to say about that, eh?"

"Did you really?" said Mr. Weasley eagerly. "Did it start all right? I - I mean," he faltered as sparks flew from Mrs. Weasley's eyes, "that - that was very wrong, boys - very wrong indeed … "

"Let's leave them to it," Ron muttered to Harry as Mrs. Weasley swelled like a bullfrog. "Come on, I'll show you my bedroom."

Harry tapped on Ben's shoulder, motioning for him to join them once he got his attention.

They slipped out of the kitchen and down a narrow passageway to an uneven staircase, which wound its way, zigzagging up through the house. On the third landing, a door stood ajar. Harry saw a small, redheaded figure with bright brown eyes stare out the door. She gave a small squeal before she closed it with a snap.

"Ginny," said Ron. "My sister. She's been talking about you all summer. You don't know how weird it is for her to be this shy. She never shuts up normally -"

Ben snorted. "I think she's got a crush. As unrealistic as those stories are, they make you perfect boyfriend material for young girl's dreams."

Harry and Ron both looked at Ben oddly.

They climbed two more flights until they reached a door with peeling paint and a small plaque on it, saying RONALD'S ROOM.

Harry stepped in, his head almost touching the sloping ceiling, and blinked. It was like walking into a furnace: Nearly everything in Ron's room seemed to be a violent shade of orange: the bedspread, the walls, even the ceiling. Then Harry realized that Ron had covered nearly every inch of the shabby wallpaper with posters of the same seven witches and wizards, all wearing bright orange robes, carrying broomsticks, and waving energetically.

"Your Quidditch team?" said Harry.

"The Chudley Cannons," said Ron, pointing at the orange bedspread, which was emblazoned with two giant black C's and a speeding cannonball. "Ninth in the league."

Ron's school spellbooks were stacked untidily in a corner, next to a pile of comics that all seemed to feature _The Adventures of Martin Miggs, the Mad Muggle_. Ron's magic wand was lying on top of a fish tank full of frog spawn on the windowsill, next to his fat gray rat, Scabbers, who was snoozing in a patch of sun.

Harry stepped over a pack of Self-Shuffling playing cards on the floor and looked out of the tiny window. In the field far below he could see a gang of what appeared to be walking potatoes sneaking one by one back through the Weasleys' hedge. Then he turned to look at Ron, noticing Ben had been looking around the room as he passed his field of vision, who was watching him almost nervously, as though waiting for his opinion.

"It's a bit small," said Ron quickly. "Not like what you probably had with the Muggles or Ben. And I'm right underneath the ghoul in the attic; he's always banging on the pipes and groaning … "

But Harry, grinning widely, said, "This is the best house I've ever been in."

"It is pretty brilliant," Ben responded, also grinning.

Ron's ears went pink.

**AN: So, new chapter. I don't have much to say right now, so if you have a comment, please review. Oh, and I still don't own the Harry Potter ****franchise****.**

**Uploaded: Feb. 7th, 2020**


	9. 9 - In Diagon Alley

(replaces chapter 4 of Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets)

Life at the Burrow was as different as possible from life on Privet Drive or Ben's house. The Dursleys liked everything neat and ordered; the Williams kept things organized; the Weasleys' house burst with the strange and unexpected. Harry got a shock the first time he looked in the mirror over the kitchen mantelpiece and it shouted, "_Tuck your shirt in, scruffy!_" The ghoul in the attic howled and dropped pipes whenever he felt things were getting too quiet, and small explosions from Fred and George's bedroom were considered perfectly normal. What Harry found most unusual about life at Ron's, however, wasn't the talking mirror or the clanking ghoul: It was the fact that everybody there seemed to like him.

Mrs. Weasley fussed over the state of his socks and tried to force him to eat fourth helpings at every meal. Mr. Weasley liked Harry to sit next to him at the dinner table so that he could bombard him with questions about life with Muggles, asking him to explain how things like plugs and the postal service worked.

"_Fascinating_." he would say as Harry talked him through using a telephone. "_Ingenious_, really, how many ways Muggles have found of getting along without magic."

Ben himself was often seen helping Mr. Weasley in his shed. He'd come back in with a smile that he'd often get after he found a solution that he didn't think of.

Harry heard from Hogwarts one sunny morning about a week after he had arrived at the Burrow. He and Ron went down to breakfast to find Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, Ginny, and Ben already sitting at the kitchen table. The moment she saw Harry, Ginny accidentally knocked her porridge bowl to the floor with a loud clatter. Ginny seemed very prone to knocking things over whenever Harry entered a room. She dived under the table to retrieve the bowl and emerged with her face glowing like the setting sun. Pretending he hadn't noticed this, Harry sat down and took the toast Mrs. Weasley offered him.

"Letters from school," said Mr. Weasley, passing Harry and Ron identical envelopes of yellowish parchment, addressed in green ink. Harry noticed Ben already has his in hand. "Dumbledore already knows you're here, Harry - doesn't miss a trick, that man. You two've got them, too," he added, as Fred and George ambled in, still in their pajamas.

For a few minutes there was silence as they all read their letters. Harry's told him to catch the Hogwarts Express as usual from King's Cross station on September first. There was also a list of the new books he'd need for the coming year.

_SECOND-YEAR STUDENTS WILL REQUIRE:_

_The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 2 by Miranda Goshawk_

_Break with a Banshee by Gilderoy Lockhart_

_Gadding with Ghouls by Gilderoy Lockhart_

_Holidays with Hags by Gilderoy Lockhart_

_Travels with Trolls by Gilderoy Lockhart_

_Voyages with Vampires by Gilderoy Lockhart_

_Wanderings with Werewolves by Gilderoy Lockhart_

_Year with the Yeti by Gilderoy Lockhart_

Fred, who had finished his own list, peered over at Harry's.

"You've been told to get all Lockhart's books, too!" he said. "The new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher must be a fan - bet it's a witch."

At this point, Fred caught his mother's eye and quickly busied himself with the marmalade.

"That lot won't come cheap," said George, with a quick look at his parents. "Lockhart's books are really expensive..."

"Well, we'll manage," said Mrs. Weasley, but she looked worried. "I expect we'll be able to pick up a lot of Ginny's things secondhand."

"Oh, are you starting at Hogwarts this year?" Harry asked Ginny.

She nodded, blushing to the roots of her flaming hair, and put her elbow in the butter dish. Fortunately no one saw this except Harry, because just then Ron's elder brother Percy walked in. He was already dressed, his Hogwarts prefect badge pinned to his sweater vest.

"Morning, all," said Percy briskly. "Lovely day."

He sat down in the only remaining chair but leapt up again almost immediately, pulling from underneath him a molting, gray feather duster - at least, that was what Harry thought it was, until he saw that it was breathing.

"Errol!" said Ron, taking the limp owl from Percy and extracting a letter from under its wing. "_Finally_ \- he's got Hermione's answer. I wrote to her saying we were going to try and well, you know."

Ben looked amused while Mrs. Weasley swelled slightly. Ron carried Errol to a perch just inside the back door and tried to stand him on it, but Errol flopped straight off again so Ron lay him on the draining board instead, muttering, "Pathetic." Then he ripped open Hermione's letter and read it out loud:

_"'Dear Ron, and Harry if you're there,_

_"`I hope everything went all right and that Harry is okay and that you didn't do anything illegal to help him, Ron, because that would get Harry into trouble, too. I've been worried and if Harry is all right, will you please let me know at once, but perhaps it would be better if you used a different owl because I think another delivery might finish your one off._

_"I'm very busy with schoolwork, of course'- _How can she be?" said Ron in horror. "We're on vacation! _\- 'and we're going to London next Wednesday to buy my new books. Why don't we meet in Diagon Alley? Let me know what's happening as soon as you can. _

_"Love from Hermione.'"_

"Well, that fits in nicely, we can go and get all your things then, too," said Mrs. Weasley, starting to clear the table. "What're you all up to today?"

Harry, Ben, Ron, Fred, and George were planning to go up the hill to a small paddock the Weasleys owned. It was surrounded by trees that blocked it from view of the village below, meaning that they could practice Quidditch there, as long as they didn't fly too high.

They couldn't use real Quidditch balls, which would have been hard to explain if they had escaped and flown away over the village; instead they threw apples for one another to catch. They took turns riding Harry's Nimbus Two Thousand, which was easily the best broom; Ron's old Shooting Star was often outstripped by passing butterflies.

Ben had asked why Ginny didn't join them. The response from Ron had been, "She doesn't fly." Harry doubted anyone from the Weasley family would not be able to fly. From the looks of it, Ben didn't believe that for a moment. Ben and Ginny had struck up a surprising friendship over the summer. He was seen frequently talking to her about various things. Harry had heard her laughter many times thanks to these discussions.

Five minutes later they were marching up the hill, broomsticks over their shoulders. They had asked Percy if he wanted to join them, but he had said he was busy. Harry had only seen Percy at mealtimes so far; he stayed shut in his room the rest of the time.

"Wish I knew what he was up to," said Fred, frowning. "He's not himself. His exam results came the day before you did; twelve O.W.L.s and he hardly gloated at all."

"Ordinary Wizarding Levels," George explained, seeing Harry's puzzled look. "Bill got twelve, too. If we're not careful, we'll have another Head Boy in the family. I don't think I could stand the shame."

Bill was the oldest Weasley brother. He and the next brother, Charlie, had already left Hogwarts. Harry had never met either of them, but knew that Charlie was in Romania studying dragons and Bill in Egypt working for the wizard's bank, Gringotts.

"Dunno how Mum and Dad are going to afford all our school stuff this year," said George after a while. "Five sets of Lockhart books! And Ginny needs robes and a wand and everything … "

Harry said nothing. He felt a bit awkward. Stored in an underground vault at Gringotts in London was a small fortune that his parents had left him. Of course, it was only in the wizarding world that he had money; you couldn't use Galleons, Sickles, and Knuts in Muggle shops. He had never mentioned his Gringotts bank account to the Dursleys; he didn't think their horror of anything connected with magic would stretch to a large pile of gold.

Mrs. Weasley woke them all early the following Wednesday. After a quick half a dozen bacon sandwiches each, they pulled on their coats and Mrs. Weasley took a flowerpot off the kitchen mantelpiece and peered inside.

"We're running low, Arthur," she sighed. "We'll have to buy some more today … Ah well, guests first! After you, Harry dear!"

And she offered him the flowerpot.

Harry stared at them all watching him.

"W-what am I supposed to do?" he stammered.

"He's never traveled by Floo powder," said Ron suddenly. "Sorry, Harry, I forgot."

Ben winced. "Sorry. We use muggle transportation to get to places at my house."

"Never?" said Mr. Weasley. "But how did you get to Diagon Alley to buy your school things last year?"

"I went on the Underground -"

"Really?" said Mr. Weasley eagerly. "Were there _escapators_? How exactly -"

"Not _now_, Arthur," said Mrs. Weasley. "Floo powder's a lot quicker, dear, but goodness me, if you've never used it before -"

"He'll be all right, Mum," said Fred. "Harry, watch us first."

He took a pinch of glittering powder out of the flowerpot, stepped up to the fire, and threw the powder into the flames.

With a roar, the fire turned emerald green and rose higher than Fred, who stepped right into it, shouted, "Diagon Alley!" and vanished.

"You must speak clearly, dear," Mrs. Weasley told Harry as George dipped his hand into the flowerpot. "And be sure to get out at the right grate… "

"The right what?" said Harry nervously as the fire roared and whipped George out of sight, too. "Well, there are an awful lot of wizard fires to choose from, you know, but as long as you've spoken clearly -"

"He'll be fine, Molly, don't fuss," said Mr. Weasley, helping himself to Floo powder too.

"But, dear, if he got lost, how would we ever explain to his aunt and uncle?"

"They wouldn't mind," Harry reassured her. "Dudley would think it was a brilliant joke if I got lost up a chimney, don't worry about that -"

"Well … all right … you go after Arthur," said Mrs. Weasley. "Now, when you get into the fire, say where you're going."

"And keep your elbows tucked in," Ron advised.

"And your eyes shut," said Mrs. Weasley. "The soot -"

"Don't fidget," said Ron. "Or you might well fall out of the wrong fireplace -"

"But don't panic and get out too early; wait until you see Fred and George."

Trying hard to bear all this in mind, Harry took a pinch of Floo powder and walked to the edge of the fire. He took a deep breath, scattered the powder into the flames, and stepped forward; the fire felt like a warm breeze; he opened his mouth and immediately swallowed a lot of hot ash.

"D-Dia-gon Alley," he coughed.

It felt as though he was being sucked down a giant drain. He seemed to be spinning very fast - the roaring in his ears was deafening - he tried to keep his eyes open but the whirl of green flames made him feel sick - something hard knocked his elbow and he tucked it in tightly, still spinning and spinning - now it felt as though cold hands were slapping his face - squinting through his glasses he saw a blurred stream of fireplaces and snatched glimpses of the rooms beyond - his bacon sandwiches were churning inside him - he closed his eyes again wishing it would stop, and then…

He fell, face forward, onto cold stone and felt the bridge of his glasses snap.

Dizzy and bruised, covered in soot, he got gingerly to his feet, holding his broken glasses up to his eyes. He was quite alone, but where he was, he had no idea. All he could tell was that he was standing in the stone fireplace of what looked like a large, dimly lit wizard's shop - but nothing in here was ever likely to be on a Hogwarts school list.

A glass case nearby held a withered hand on a cushion, a bloodstained pack of cards, and a staring glass eye. Evil-looking masks stared down from the walls, an assortment of human bones lay upon the counter, and rusty, spiked instruments hung from the ceiling. Even worse, the dark, narrow street Harry could see through the dusty shop window was definitely not Diagon Alley.

The sooner he got out of here, the better. Nose still stinging where it had hit the hearth, Harry made his way swiftly and silently toward the door, but before he'd got halfway toward it, two people appeared on the other side of the glass - and one of them was the very last person Harry wanted to meet when he was lost, covered in soot, and wearing broken glasses: Draco Malfoy.

Harry looked quickly around and spotted a large black cabinet to his left; he shot inside it and pulled the doors closed, leaving a small crack to peer through. Seconds later, a bell clanged, and Malfoy stepped into the shop.

The man who followed could only be Draco's father. He had the same pale, pointed face and identical cold, gray eyes. Mr. Malfoy crossed the shop, looking lazily at the items on display, and rang a bell on the counter before turning to his son and saying, "Touch nothing, Draco."

Malfoy, who had reached for the glass eye, said, "I thought you were going to buy me a present."

"I said I would buy you a racing broom," said his father, drumming his fingers on the counter.

"What's the good of that if I'm not on the House team?" said Malfoy, looking sulky and bad-tempered. "Harry Potter got a Nimbus Two Thousand last year. Special permission from Dumbledore so he could play for Gryffindor. He's not even that good, it's just because he's famous … famous for having a stupid scar on his forehead … "

Malfoy bent down to examine a shelf full of skulls.

" … everyone thinks he's so smart, wonderful _Potter_ with his _scar_ and his _broomstick_ -"

"You have told me this at least a dozen times already," said Mr. Malfoy, with a quelling look at his son. "And I would remind you that it is not - prudent - to appear less than fond of Harry Potter, not when most of our kind regard him as the hero who made the Dark Lord disappear - ah, Mr. Borgin."

A stooping man had appeared behind the counter, smoothing his greasy hair back from his face.

"Mr. Malfoy, what a pleasure to see you again," said Mr. Borgin in a voice as oily as his hair. "Delighted - and young Master Malfoy, too - charmed. How may I be of assistance? I must show you, just in today, and very reasonably priced -"

"I'm not buying today, Mr. Borgin, but selling," said Mr. Malfoy.

"Selling?" The smile faded slightly from Mr. Borgin's face.

"You have heard, of course, that the Ministry is conducting more raids," said Mr. Malfoy, taking a roll of parchment from his inside pocket and unraveling it for Mr. Borgin to read. "I have a few - ah - items at home that might embarrass me, if the Ministry were to call… "

Mr. Borgin fixed a pair of pince-nez to his nose and looked down the list.

"The Ministry wouldn't presume to trouble you, sir, surely?"

Mr. Malfoy's lip curled.

"I have not been visited yet. The name Malfoy still commands a certain respect, yet the Ministry grows ever more meddlesome. There are rumors about a new Muggle Protection Act - no doubt that flea-bitten, Muggle-loving fool Arthur Weasley is behind it -"

Harry felt a hot surge of anger.

"- and as you see, certain of these poisons might make it appear -"

"I understand, sir, of course," said Mr. Borgin. "Let me see… "

"Can I have _that_?" interrupted Draco, pointing at the withered hand on its cushion.

"Ah, the Hand of Glory!" said Mr. Borgin, abandoning Mr. Malfoy's list and scurrying over to Draco. "Insert a candle and it gives light only to the holder! Best friend of thieves and plunderers! Your son has fine taste, sir."

"I hope my son will amount to more than a thief or a plunderer, Borgin," said Mr. Malfoy coldly, and Mr. Borgin said quickly, "No offense, sir, no offense meant -"

"Though if his grades don't pick up," said Mr. Malfoy, more coldly still, "that may indeed be all he is fit for -"

"It's not my fault," retorted Draco. "The teachers all have favorites, that Hermione Granger -"

"I would have thought you'd be ashamed that a girl of no wizard family beat you in every exam," snapped Mr. Malfoy.

"Ha!" said Harry under his breath, pleased to see Draco looking both abashed and angry.

"It's the same all over," said Mr. Borgin, in his oily voice. "Wizard blood is counting for less everywhere -"

"Not with me," said Mr. Malfoy, his long nostrils flaring.

"No, sir, nor with me, sir," said Mr. Borgin, with a deep bow.

"In that case, perhaps we can return to my list," said Mr. Malfoy shortly. "I am in something of a hurry, Borgin, I have important business elsewhere today -"

They started to haggle. Harry watched nervously as Draco drew nearer and nearer to his hiding place, examining the objects for sale. Draco paused to examine a long coil of hangman's rope and to read, smirking, the card propped on a magnificent necklace of opals, _Caution: Do Not Touch. Cursed - Has Claimed the Lives of Nineteen Muggle Owners to Date_.

Draco turned away and saw the cabinet right in front of him. He walked forward - he stretched out his hand for the handle "Done," said Mr. Malfoy at the counter. "Come, Draco -"

Harry wiped his forehead on his sleeve as Draco turned away.

"Good day to you, Mr. Borgin. I'll expect you at the manor tomorrow to pick up the goods." The moment the door had closed, Mr. Borgin dropped his oily manner.

"Good day yourself, _Mister_ Malfoy, and if the stories are true, you haven't sold me half of what's hidden in your _manor_… "

Muttering darkly, Mr. Borgin disappeared into a back room. Harry waited for a minute in case he came back, then, quietly as he could, slipped out of the cabinet, past the glass cases, and out of the shop door.

Clutching his broken glasses to his face, Harry stared around. He had emerged into a dingy alleyway that seemed to be made up entirely of shops devoted to the Dark Arts. The one he'd just left, Borgin and Burkes, looked like the largest, but opposite was a nasty window display of shrunken heads and, two doors down, a large cage was alive with gigantic black spiders. Two shabby-looking wizards were watching him from the shadow of a doorway, muttering to each other. Feeling jumpy, Harry set off, trying to hold his glasses on straight and hoping against hope he'd be able to find a way out of here.

An old wooden street sign hanging over a shop selling poisonous candles told him he was in Knockturn Alley. This didn't help, as Harry had never heard of such a place. He supposed he hadn't spoken clearly enough through his mouthful of ashes back in the Weasleys' fire. Trying to stay calm, he wondered what to do.

"Not lost are you, my dear?" said a voice in his ear, making him jump.

An aged witch stood in front of him, holding a tray of what looked horribly like whole human fingernails. She leered at him, showing mossy teeth. Harry backed away.

"I'm fine, thanks," he said. "I'm just -"

"HARRY! What d'yeh think yer doin' down there?"

Harry's heart leapt. So did the witch; a load of fingernails cascaded down over her feet and she cursed as the massive form of Hagrid, the Hogwarts' gamekeeper, came striding toward them, beetle- black eyes flashing over his great bristling beard.

"Hagrid!" Harry croaked in relief. "I was lost - Floo powder -"

Hagrid seized Harry by the scruff of the neck and pulled him away from the witch, knocking the tray right out of her hands. Her shrieks followed them all the way along the twisting alleyway out into bright sunlight. Harry saw a familiar, snow-white marble building in the distance - Gringotts Bank. Hagrid had steered him right into Diagon Alley.

"Yer a mess!" said Hagrid gruffly, brushing soot off Harry so forcefully he nearly knocked him into a barrel of dragon dung outside an apothecary. "Skulkin' around Knockturn Alley, I dunno dodgy place, Harry - don' want no one ter see yeh down there -"

"I realized _that_," said Harry, ducking as Hagrid made to brush him off again. "I told you, I was lost - what were you doing down there, anyway?"

"I was lookin' fer a Flesh-Eatin' Slug Repellent," growled Hagrid. "They're ruinin' the school cabbages. Yer not on yer own?"

"I'm staying with the Weasleys but we got separated," Harry explained. "I've got to go and find them..."

They set off together down the street.

"So, how was yer time with Ben?" Hagrid asked as Harry jogged alongside him (he had to take three steps to every stride of Hagrid's enormous boots). Harry launched into details about how enjoyable the Williams' were.

"That's good," Hagrid said, beaming. "Sounds a lot better than -"

"Harry! Harry! Over here!"

Harry looked up and saw Hermione Granger standing at the top of the white flight of steps to Gringotts. She ran down to meet them, her bushy brown hair flying behind her.

"What happened to your glasses? Hello, Hagrid - Oh, it's wonderful to see you two again - Are you coming into Gringotts, Harry?"

"As soon as I've found the Weasleys," said Harry.

"Yeh won't have long ter wait," Hagrid said with a grin.

Harry and Hermione looked around: Sprinting up the crowded street were Ron, Fred, George, Percy, Ben, and Mr. Weasley.

"Harry," Mr. Weasley panted. "We _hoped_ you'd only gone one grate too far… " He mopped his glistening bald patch. "Molly's frantic - she's coming now -"

"Where did you come out?" Ron asked.

"Knockturn Alley," said Hagrid grimly.

"_Excellent_!" said Fred and George together.

"We've never been allowed in," said Ron enviously.

"I should ruddy well think not," growled Hagrid. Mrs. Weasley now came galloping into view, her handbag swinging wildly in one hand, Ginny just clinging onto the other.

"Oh, Harry - oh, my dear - you could have been anywhere -"

Gasping for breath she pulled a large clothes brush out of her bag and began sweeping off the soot Hagrid hadn't managed to beat away. Mr. Weasley took Harry's glasses, gave them a tap of his wand, and returned them, good as new.

"Well, gotta be off," said Hagrid, who was having his hand wrung by Mrs. Weasley ("Knockturn Alley! If you hadn't found him, Hagrid!"). "See yer at Hogwarts!" And he strode away, head and shoulders taller than anyone else in the packed street.

"Guess who I saw in Borgin and Burkes?" Harry asked Ron and Hermione as they climbed the Gringotts steps. "Malfoy and his father."

"Did Lucius Malfoy buy anything?" said Mr. Weasley sharply behind them.

"No, he was selling -"

"So he's worried," said Mr. Weasley with grim satisfaction. "Oh, I'd love to get Lucius Malfoy for something… "

"You be careful, Arthur," said Mrs. Weasley sharply as they were bowed into the bank by a goblin at the door. "That family's trouble. Don't go biting off more than you can chew -"

"So you don't think I'm a match for Lucius Malfoy?" said Mr. Weasley indignantly, but he was distracted almost at once by the sight of Hermione's parents, who were standing nervously at the counter that ran all along the great marble hall, waiting for Hermione to introduce them.

"But you're _Muggles_!" said Mr. Weasley delightedly as Ben tried valiantly not to snigger at the sight. "We must have a drink! What's that you've got there? Oh, you're changing Muggle money. Molly, look!" He pointed excitedly at the ten-pound notes in Mr. Granger's hand.

"Meet you back here," Ron said to Hermione as the Weasleys and Harry were led off to their underground vaults by another Gringotts goblin and Ben lead to his by a third goblin, sniggering slightly as he tried to become more professional.

The vaults were reached by means of small, goblin-driven carts that sped along miniature train tracks through the bank's underground tunnels. Harry enjoyed the breakneck journey down to the Weasleys' vault, but felt dreadful, far worse than he had in Knockturn Alley, when it was opened. There was a very small pile of silver Sickles inside, and just one gold Galleon. Mrs. Weasley felt right into the corners before sweeping the whole lot into her bag. Harry felt even worse when they reached his vault. He tried to block the contents from view as he hastily shoved handfuls of coins into a leather bag.

Back outside on the marble steps, they all separated. Percy muttered vaguely about needing a new quill. Fred and George had spotted their friend from Hogwarts, Lee Jordan. Mrs. Weasley and Ginny were going to a secondhand robe shop. Mr. Weasley was insisting on taking the Grangers off to the Leaky Cauldron for a drink.

"We'll all meet at Flourish and Blotts in an hour to buy your schoolbooks," said Mrs. Weasley, setting off with Ginny. "And not one step down Knockturn Alley!" she shouted at the twins' retreating backs.

Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ben strolled off along the winding, cobbled street. The bag of gold, silver, and bronze jangling cheerfully in Harry's pocket was clamoring to be spent, so he bought four large strawberry-and-peanut-butter ice creams, which they slurped happily as they wandered up the alley, examining the fascinating shop windows. Ron gazed longingly at a full set of Chudley Cannon robes in the windows of Quality Quidditch Supplies until Hermione dragged them off to buy ink and parchment next door. In Gambol and Japes Wizarding Joke Shop, they met Fred, George, and Lee Jordan, who were stocking up on Dr. Filibuster's Fabulous Wet-Start, No-Heat Fireworks, and in a tiny junk shop full of broken wands, lopsided brass scales, and old cloaks covered in potion stains they found Percy, deeply immersed in a small and deeply boring book called _Prefects Who Gained Power_.

"_A study of Hogwarts prefects and their later careers_," Ron read aloud off the back cover as Ben went around looking for used or broken wands to buy. "That sounds _fascinating_… "

"Go away," Percy snapped.

"'Course, he's very ambitious, Percy, he's got it all planned out… He wants to be Minister of Magic… " Ron told Harry and Hermione in an undertone as they left Percy to it.

An hour later, they headed for Flourish and Blotts. They were by no means the only ones making their way to the bookshop. As they approached it, they saw to their surprise a large crowd jostling outside the doors, trying to get in. The reason for this was proclaimed by a large banner stretched across the upper windows:

_GILDEROY LOCKHART_

_will be signing copies of his autobiography_

_MAGICAL ME_

_today 12:30P. 4:30P.M._

"We can actually meet him!" Hermione squealed. "I mean, he's written almost the whole booklist!"

The crowd seemed to be made up mostly of witches around Mrs. Weasley's age. A harassed-looking wizard stood at the door, saying, "Calmly, please, ladies… Don't push, there… mind the books, now… "

Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ben squeezed inside. A long line wound right to the back of the shop, where Gilderoy Lockhart was signing his books. They each grabbed a copy of _The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 2_ and sneaked up the line to where the rest of the Weasleys were standing with Mr. and Mrs. Granger.

"Oh, there you are, good," said Mrs. Weasley. She sounded breathless and kept patting her hair. "We'll be able to see him in a minute… "

Gilderoy Lockhart came slowly into view, seated at a table surrounded by large pictures of his own face, all winking and flashing dazzlingly white teeth at the crowd. The real Lockhart was wearing robes of forget-me-not blue that exactly matched his eyes; his pointed wizard's hat was set at a jaunty angle on his wavy hair.

A short, irritable-looking man was dancing around taking photographs with a large black camera that emitted puffs of purple smoke with every blinding flash.

"Out of the way, there," he snarled at Ron, moving back to get a better shot. "This is for the_ Daily Prophet_ -"

"Big deal," said Ron, rubbing his foot where the photographer had stepped on it.

Gilderoy Lockhart heard him. He looked up. He saw Ron - and then he saw Harry. He stared. Then he leapt to his feet and positively shouted, "It _can't_ be Harry Potter?"

The crowd parted, whispering excitedly; Ben muttered something about how it was clearly James Potter as Lockhart dived forward, seized Harry's arm, and pulled him to the front. The crowd burst into applause. Harry's face burned as Lockhart shook his hand for the photographer, who was clicking away madly, wafting thick smoke over the Weasleys. Ben, he noticed was now missing, probably off to look at more books.

"Nice big smile, Harry," said Lockhart, through his own gleaming teeth. "Together, you and I are worth the front page."

When he finally let go of Harry's hand, Harry could hardly feel his fingers. He tried to sidle back over to the Weasleys, but Lockhart threw an arm around his shoulders and clamped him tightly to his side.

"Ladies and gentlemen," he said loudly, waving for quiet. "What an extraordinary moment this is! The perfect moment for me to make a little announcement I've been sitting on for some time!

"When young Harry here stepped into Flourish and Blotts today, he only wanted to buy my autobiography - which I shall be happy to present him now, free of charge -" The crowd applauded again. "He had no _idea_," Lockhart continued, giving Harry a little shake that made his glasses slip to the end of his nose, "that he would shortly be getting much, much more than my book, _Magical Me_. He and his schoolmates will, in fact, be getting the real magical me. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, I have great pleasure and pride in announcing that this September, I will be taking up the post of Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry!"

The crowd cheered and clapped and Harry found himself being presented with the entire works of Gilderoy Lockhart. Staggering slightly under their weight, he managed to make his way out of the limelight to the edge of the room, where Ginny was standing next to her new cauldron. Ben was right next to her, quietly swearing as she looked at him in amusement.

"You have these," Harry mumbled to her, tipping the books into the cauldron, startling her. "I'll buy my own -"

"Bet you loved that, didn't you, Potter?" said a voice Harry had no trouble recognizing. He straightened up and found himself face-to-face with Draco Malfoy, who was wearing his usual sneer.

"_Famous_ Harry Potter," said Malfoy. "Can't even go into a _bookshop_ without making the front page."

"Leave him alone, he didn't want all that!" said Ginny. It was the first time she had spoken in front of Harry. She was glaring at Malfoy.

"Jealous, cousin?" Ben asked at the same time as Ginny, teasing smile on his lips, disdain in his grey eyes.

"Potter, you've got yourself a _girlfriend_!" drawled Malfoy, ignoring Ben. Ginny went scarlet as Ben's smile grew more menacing and Ron and Hermione fought their way over, both clutching stacks of Lockhart's books.

"Oh, it's you," said Ron, looking at Malfoy as if he were something unpleasant on the sole of his shoe. "Bet you're surprised to see Harry here, eh?"

"Not as surprised as I am to see you in a shop, Weasley," retorted Malfoy. "I suppose your parents will go hungry for a month to pay for all those."

Ron went as red as Ginny. He dropped his books into the cauldron, too, and started toward Malfoy, but Harry and Hermione grabbed the back of his jacket.

"Ron!" said Mr. Weasley, struggling over with Fred and George. "What are you doing? It's too crowded in here, let's go outside."

"Well, well, well - Arthur Weasley."

It was Mr. Malfoy. He stood with his hand on Draco's shoulder, sneering in just the same way.

"Lucius," said Mr. Weasley, nodding coldly.

"Busy time at the Ministry, I hear," said Mr. Malfoy. "All those raids… I hope they're paying you overtime?"

He reached into Ginny's cauldron and extracted, from amid the glossy Lockhart books, a very old, very battered copy of _A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration_.

"Obviously not," Mr. Malfoy said. "Dear me, what's the use of being a disgrace to the name of wizard if they don't even pay you well for it?"

There was a thud of metal as Ginny's cauldron went flying; Mr. Weasley had thrown himself at Mr. Malfoy, knocking him backward into a bookshelf. Dozens of heavy spellbooks came thundering down on all their heads; there was a yell of, "Get him, Dad!" from Fred or George; Mrs. Weasley was shrieking, "No, Arthur, no!"; the crowd stampeded backward, knocking more shelves over; "Gentlemen, please - please!" cried the assistant, and then, louder than all -

"Break it up, there, gents, break it up -"

Hagrid was wading toward them through the sea of books. In an instant he had pulled Mr. Weasley and Mr. Malfoy apart. Mr. Weasley had a cut lip and Mr. Malfoy had been hit in the eye by an_ Encyclopedia of Toadstools_. He was still holding Ginny's old Transfiguration book. He thrust it at her, his eyes glittering with malice.

"Here, girl - take your book - it's the best your father can give you -" Pulling himself out of Hagrid's grip he beckoned to Draco. Draco rose unsteadily to his feet, clutching the back of his head. Harry didn't know what happened to him, but suspected that Ben knew based on his snickering. The pair swept from the shop.

"Yeh should've ignored him, Arthur," said Hagrid, almost lifting Mr. Weasley off his feet as he straightened his robes. "Rotten ter the core, the whole family, everyone knows that - no Malfoy's worth listenin' ter - bad blood, that's what it is - come on now - let's get outta here."

Ben muttered in agreement. "The Malfoys have always been a bad sort, ever since the Statute."

The assistant looked as though he wanted to stop them leaving, but he barely came up to Hagrid's waist and seemed to think better of it. They hurried up the street, the Grangers shaking with fright and Mrs. Weasley beside herself with fury.

"A fine example to set for your children… _brawling_ in public… _what_ Gilderoy Lockhart must've thought -"

"He was pleased," said Fred. "Didn't you hear him as we were leaving? He was asking that bloke from the _Daily Prophet_ if he'd be able to work the fight into his report - said it was all publicity -" But it was a subdued group that headed back to the fireside in the Leaky Cauldron, where Harry, the Weasleys, and all their shopping would be traveling back to the Burrow using Floo powder.

They said good-bye to the Grangers, who were leaving the pub for the Muggle street on the other side; Mr. Weasley started to ask them how bus stops worked, but stopped quickly at the look on Mrs. Weasley's face.

Harry took off his glasses and put them safely in his pocket before helping himself to Floo powder. It definitely wasn't his favorite way to travel.

**AN: Ok, so I've noticed a few screw-ups that I've done and have edited them as I spotted them. A little later today because I had work and didn't want to post first thing after I woke up.**

**Uploaded Feb. 21st, 2020**


	10. 10 - Journey to the Platform

(replaces chapter 5 of Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets)

The end of the summer vacation came too quickly for Harry's liking. He was looking forward to getting back to Hogwarts, but this summer away for the Dursleys had been the happiest of his life. It was difficult not to feel jealous of Ron and Ben when he thought of the Dursleys and the sort of welcome he could expect next time he turned up on Privet Drive.

On their last evening, Mrs. Weasley conjured up a sumptuous dinner that included all of Harry's favorite things, ending with a mouthwatering treacle pudding. Fred and George rounded off the evening with a display of Filibuster fireworks; they filled the kitchen with red and blue stars that bounced from ceiling to wall for at least half an hour. Then it was time for a last mug of hot chocolate and bed.

It took a long while to get started next morning. They were up at dawn, but somehow they still seemed to have a great deal to do. Mrs. Weasley dashed about in a bad mood looking for spare socks and quills; people kept colliding on the stairs, half-dressed with bits of toast in their hands; and Mr. Weasley nearly broke his neck, tripping over a stray chicken as he crossed the yard carrying Ginny's trunk to the car.

Harry couldn't see how nine people, seven large trunks, two owls, and a rat were going to fit into one small Ford Anglia. He had reckoned, of course, without the special features that Mr. Weasley had added, as Ben had hinted.

"Not a word to Molly," he whispered to Harry as he opened the trunk and showed him how it had been magically expanded so that the luggage fitted easily.

When at last they were all in the car, Mrs. Weasley glanced into the back seat, where Harry, Ron, Fred, George, Percy, and Ben were all sitting comfortably side by side, and said, "Muggles do know more than we give them credit for, don't they?" She and Ginny got into the front seat, which had been stretched so that it resembled a park bench. "I mean, you'd never know it was this roomy from the outside, would you?"

Mr. Weasley started up the engine and they trundled out of the yard, Harry turning back for a last look at the house. He barely had time to wonder when he'd see it again when they were back. George had forgotten his box of Filibuster fireworks. Five minutes after that, they skidded to a halt in the yard so that Fred could run in for his broomstick. They had almost reached the highway when Ginny shrieked that she'd left her diary. By the time she had clambered back into the car, they were running very late, and tempers were running high.

Mr. Weasley glanced at his watch and then at his wife.

"Molly, dear -"

"_No_, Arthur -"

"No one would see - this little button here is an Invisibility Booster I installed - that'd get us up in the air - then we fly above the clouds. We'd be there in ten minutes and no one would be any the wiser -"

"I said no, Arthur, not in broad daylight -"

They reached King's Cross at a quarter to eleven. Mr. Weasley dashed across the road to get trolleys for their trunks and they all hurried into the station.

Harry had caught the Hogwarts Express the previous year. The tricky part was getting onto platform nine and three-quarters, which wasn't visible to the Muggle eye. What you had to do was walk through the solid barrier dividing platforms nine and ten. It didn't hurt, but it had to be done carefully so that none of the Muggles noticed you vanishing.

"Percy first," said Mrs. Weasley, looking nervously at the clock overhead, which showed they had only five minutes to disappear casually through the barrier.

Percy strode briskly forward and vanished. Mr. Weasley went next; Fred and George followed.

"I'll take Ginny and you three come right after us," Mrs. Weasley told Harry, Ron, and Ben, grabbing Ginny's hand and setting off. In the blink of an eye they were gone.

"Let's go together, we've only got a minute," Ron said to Harry and Ben.

Harry made sure that Hedwig's cage was safely wedged on top of his trunk and wheeled his trolley around to face the barrier. He felt perfectly confident; this wasn't nearly as uncomfortable as using Floo powder. Both Harry and Ron bent low over the handles of their trolleys and walked purposefully toward the barrier, gathering speed. A few feet away from it, they broke into a run and -

CRASH.

Both trolleys hit the barrier and bounced backward; Ron's trunk fell off with a loud thump, Harry was knocked off his feet, and Hedwig's cage bounced onto the shiny floor, and she rolled away, shrieking indignantly; people all around them stared and a guard nearby yelled, "What in blazes d'you think you're doing?"

"Lost control of the trolley," Harry gasped, clutching his ribs as he got up. Ron ran to pick up Hedwig, who was causing such a scene that there was a lot of muttering about cruelty to animals from the surrounding crowd.

Ben had slowed before he had crashed into the pair.

"Why can't we get through?" Harry hissed to Ron.

"I dunno -"

"Perhaps it's been blocked by magic?" Ben suggested as Ron looked wildly around. A dozen curious people were still watching them.

"We're going to miss the train," Ron whispered. "I don't understand why the gateway's sealed itself -"

Harry looked up at the giant clock with a sickening feeling in the pit of his stomach.

Ben snapped his fingers before quietly hissing, "Kreature!"

There was a loud crack similar to that of Dobby's. Harry looked towards the source and saw an ancient house-elf standing where he wasn't before. It spoke in a croaking voice.

"Who's called Kreature and -" Kreature broke off as he spotted Ben. "Master Benjamin?"

"Yes Kreature. Unfortunately, we don't have time to catch up. Could you transport myself and my two friends here onto the Hogwarts Express with our luggage and remove the memories of this event from the mind of the surrounding Muggles?"

"Of course, master," Kreature said, snapping his fingers.

The next thing Harry knew, everything went black; he was being pressed very hard from all directions; he could not breathe; there were iron bands tightening around his chest; his eardrums were being pushed deeper into his skull and then -

He gulped a lungful of air and opened his streaming eyes. He was in a cabin aboard the Hogwarts Express with Ron, Ben, and a girl with straggly, long, dirty-blonde hair, very pale eyebrows, and protuberant eyes that gave her a permanently surprised look. The look was exacerbated by the fact that she was probably surprised by three boys appearing in her cabin. Harry noted that she was probably a first year, judging by how small she was.

"Sorry about this," Harry said as Ben went to the window and yelled out a goodbye to the Weasleys, briefly explaining what happened.

Kreature appeared in the cabin. "Was there anything else Kreature could do, master?"

"No, thank you, Kreature, you can return to what you were doing," Ben replied.

"As master commands," Kreature replied, muttering under his breath too low for Harry to hear before disappearing with a crack. There was a moment of stunned silence. Ben was the first to recover enough to speak.

"That was … eventful."

"Yeah," Harry breathed out.

Ben looked at the girl. "You two go find Hermione and explain what happened. I'll stay here and explain it to miss … ?"

"Lovegood," the girl said in a dreamy voice. "Luna Lovegood."

Harry nodded, picking up his truck and Hedwig's cage, nudging Ron out of his stupor. The pair left as Ben launched into an explanation for the girl. As they walked through the train, they ran into Hermione.

"_There_ you are," she said, giving the pair a disapproving look. "_Where_ have you been? I thought -"

"We just got on the train," Ron interrupted. "The barrier was closed, we couldn't get onto the platform before Ben thought of a solution."

"Really?" Hermione asked, sounding skeptical. "What did he do?"

"He called a house-elf named Kreature," Harry said.

"Oh."

The three friends went back to the cabin that Hermione had chosen for them. They spent the rest of the ride to Hogwarts talking about various topics, school, Quidditch, and this summer's vacation being the most prominent.

The sorting and feast were unremarkable, as was after, with the exception of the Weasleys pulling Harry and Ron aside to clarify what happened on the platform. Needless to say, Fred and George found the whole thing amusing while Percy didn't fully approve.

**AN: Hello, and good evening! I hope you've had a good few weeks. I made sure that this section was better edited than the previous one, which I'm switching out for a more polished version. I'm feeling much better about writing, so my productivity will shoot up. I will, however, keep to my current schedule unless I finish this story and one of the sequels sooner than anticipated.**

**Uploaded Mar. 6th, 2020**


	11. 11 - Lockhart is annoying

(replaces chapter 6 of Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets)

The next morning was rather strange for a variety of reasons. Harry woke up feeling as though he should be especially glad that Ben prevented them from taking drastic actions. Harry could only wonder what he and Ron would have done if they had missed the train. When he sat at the Gryffindor table with Ron and Hermione, he heard conversations around them about a car arriving at Hogwarts last night.

"You hear the rumors about the car?" Harry asked his friends.

Ron colored as he started tearing further into his breakfast. Hermione shot him a disgusted look before she responded to Harry. "The Weasley's car apparently drove itself here last night, crashing into the willow tree on the ground."

"_What?_"

"Yeah. The tree didn't seem to like that and started to attempt to wail on the car."

Harry sat stunned.

"How - ?"

"Apparently, Ben was helping Mr. Weasley with it and it took a liking to him. He had to tell it that he was fine and that he didn't need its help. According to the rumours, the car drove into the Forbidden Forest afterwards."

Harry looked around, trying to spot Ben. He didn't manage to see him, although he spotted Ginny just getting in. He turned to Hermione and asked, "Where's Ben now?"

"Probably in the Owlery by this point. He was writing a letter of apology to the Weasleys."

Harry sat contemplating this. Ben caused the Weasleys' car to follow him merely because it liked him. The car was almost alive, then. That definitely sounded like something out of one of Ben's comics.

But he had no time to dwell on this; Professor McGonagall was moving along the Gryffindor table, handing out course schedules. Harry took his and saw that they had double Herbology with the Hufflepuffs first.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione left the castle together, crossed the vegetable patch, and made for the greenhouses, where the magical plants were kept.

As they neared the greenhouses they saw the rest of the class standing outside, waiting for Professor Sprout. Harry, Ron, and Hermione had only just joined them when she came striding into view across the lawn, accompanied by Gilderoy Lockhart. Professor Sprout's arms were full of bandages, and Harry spotted the Whomping Willow in the distance, several of its branches now in slings.

Professor Sprout was a squat little witch who wore a patched hat over her flyaway hair; there was usually a large amount of earth on her clothes and her fingernails would have made Aunt Petunia faint. Gilderoy Lockhart, however, was immaculate in sweeping robes of turquoise, his golden hair shining under a perfectly positioned turquoise hat with gold trimming.

"Oh, hello there!" he called, beaming around at the assembled students. "Just been showing Professor Sprout the right way to doctor a Whomping Willow! But I don't want you running away with the idea that I'm better at Herbology than she is! I just happen to have met several of these exotic plants on my travels … "

"Greenhouse three today, chaps!" said Professor Sprout, who was looking distinctly disgruntled, not at all her usual cheerful self.

There was a murmur of interest. They had only ever worked in greenhouse one before - greenhouse three housed far more interesting and dangerous plants. Professor Sprout took a large key from her belt and unlocked the door. Harry caught a whiff of damp earth and fertilizer mingling with the heavy perfume of some giant, umbrella-sized flowers dangling from the ceiling. He was about to follow Ron and Hermione inside when Lockhart's hand shot out.

"Harry! I've been wanting a word - you don't mind if he's a couple of minutes late, do you, Professor Sprout?"

Judging by Professor Sprout's scowl, she did mind, but Lockhart said, "That's the ticket," and closed the greenhouse door in her face.

"Harry," said Lockhart, his large white teeth gleaming in the sunlight as he shook his head. "Harry, Harry, Harry."

Completely nonplussed, Harry said nothing.

"When I heard - well, of course, it was all my fault. Could have kicked myself."

Harry had no idea what he was talking about. He was about to say so when Lockhart went on,

"Don't know when I've been more shocked. Flying a car to Hogwarts! Well, of course, I knew at once why you'd done it. Stood out a mile. Harry, Harry, _Harry_."

It was remarkable how he could show every one of those brilliant teeth even when he wasn't talking.

"Gave you a taste for publicity, didn't I?" said Lockhart. "Gave you the _bug_. You got onto the front page of the paper with me and you couldn't wait to do it again."

"Oh, no, Professor, I -"

"Harry, Harry, Harry," said Lockhart, reaching out and grasping his shoulder. "I _understand._ Natural to want a bit more once you've had that first taste - and I blame myself for giving you that, because it was bound to go to your head - but see here, young man, you can't start _flying cars_ to try and get yourself noticed. Just calm down, all right? Plenty of time for all that when you're older. Yes, yes, I know what you're thinking! 'It's all right for him, he's an internationally famous wizard already!' But when I was twelve, I was just as much of a nobody as you are now. In fact, I'd say I was even more of a nobody! I mean, a few people have heard of you, haven't they? All that business with He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named!" He glanced at the lightning scar on Harry's forehead. "I know, I know - it's not quite as good as winning _Witch Weekly'_s Most Charming Smile Award five times in a row, as I have - but it's a _start_, Harry, it's a _start_."

He gave Harry a hearty wink and strode off. Harry stood stunned and confused for a few seconds, then, remembering he was supposed to be in the greenhouse, he opened the door and slid inside.

Professor Sprout was standing behind a trestle bench in the center of the greenhouse. About twenty pairs of different-colored ear muffs were lying on the bench. When Harry had taken his place between Ron and Hermione, she said, "We'll be repotting Mandrakes today. Now, who can tell me the properties of the Mandrake?"

To nobody's surprise, Hermione's hand was first into the air.

"Mandrake, or Mandragora, is a powerful restorative," said Hermione, sounding as usual as though she had swallowed the textbook. "It is used to return people who have been transfigured or cursed to their original state."

"Excellent. Ten points to Gryffindor," said Professor Sprout. "The Mandrake forms an essential part of most antidotes. It is also, however, dangerous. Who can tell me why?"

Hermione's hand narrowly missed Harry's glasses as it shot up again.

"The cry of the Mandrake is fatal to anyone who hears it," she said promptly.

"Precisely. Take another ten points," said Professor Sprout. "Now, the Mandrakes we have here are still very young."

She pointed to a row of deep trays as she spoke, and everyone shuffled forward for a better look. A hundred or so tufty little plants, purplish green in color, were growing there in rows. They looked quite unremarkable to Harry, who didn't have the slightest idea what Hermione meant by the "cry" of the Mandrake.

"Everyone take a pair of earmuffs," said Professor Sprout.

There was a scramble as everyone tried to seize a pair that wasn't pink and fluffy.

"When I tell you to put them on, make sure your ears are _completely_ covered," said Professor Sprout. "When it is safe to remove them, I will give you the thumbs-up. Right - earmuffs on." Harry snapped the earmuffs over his ears. They shut out sound completely. Professor Sprout put the pink, fluffy pair over her own ears, rolled up the sleeves of her robes, grasped one of the tufty plants firmly, and pulled hard.

Harry let out a gasp of surprise that no one could hear.

Instead of roots, a small, muddy, and extremely ugly baby popped out of the earth. The leaves were growing right out of his head. He had pale green, mottled skin, and was clearly bawling at the top of his lungs.

Professor Sprout took a large plant pot from under the table and plunged the Mandrake into it, burying him in dark, damp compost until only the tufted leaves were visible. Professor Sprout dusted off her hands, gave them all the thumbs-up, and removed her own earmuffs.

As our Mandrakes are only seedlings, their cries won't kill yet," she said calmly as though she'd just done nothing more exciting than water a begonia. "However, they _will_ knock you out for several hours, and as I'm sure none of you want to miss your first day back, make sure your earmuffs are securely in place while you work. I will attract your attention when it is time to pack up.

"Four to a tray - there is a large supply of pots here - compost in the sacks over there - and be careful of the Venemous Tentacula, it's teething."

She gave a sharp slap to a spiky, dark red plant as she spoke, making it draw in the long feelers that had been inching sneakily over her shoulder.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione were joined at their tray by a curly-haired Hufflepuff boy Harry knew by sight but had never spoken to.

"Justin Finch-Fletchley," he said brightly, shaking Harry by the hand. "Know who you are, of course, the famous Harry Potter … And you're Hermione Granger - always top in everything" (Hermione beamed as she had her hand shaken too) "- and Ron Weasley. Wasn't that your flying car?"

Ron didn't smile. It seems he was still trying to process the events of last night.

"That Lockhart's something, isn't he?" said Justin happily as they began filling their plant pots with dragon dung compost. "Awfully brave chap. Have you read his books? I'd have died of fear if Id been cornered in a telephone booth by a werewolf, but he stayed cool and - zap - just _fantastic_.

"My name was down for Eton, you know. I can't tell you how glad I am I came here instead. Of course, Mother was slightly disappointed, but since I made her read Lockhart's books I think she's begun to see how useful it'll be to have a fully trained wizard in the family … "

After that they didn't have much of a chance to talk. Their earmuffs were back on and they needed to concentrate on the Mandrakes. Professor Sprout had made it look extremely easy, but it wasn't. The Mandrakes didn't like coming out of the earth, but didn't seem to want to go back into it either. They squirmed, kicked, flailed their sharp little fists, and gnashed their teeth; Harry spent ten whole minutes trying to squash a particularly fat one into a pot.

By the end of the class, Harry, like everyone else, was sweaty, aching, and covered in earth. Everyone traipsed back to the castle for a quick wash and then the Gryffindors hurried off to Transfiguration.

Professor McGonagall's classes were always hard work, but today was especially difficult. Everything Harry had learned last year seemed to have leaked out of his head during the summer. He was supposed to be turning a beetle into a button, but all he managed to do for a while was give his beetle a lot of exercise as it scuttled over the desktop avoiding his wand.

Harry was relieved to hear the lunch bell. His brain felt like a wrung sponge. Everyone filed out of the classroom and went down to lunch.

"What've we got this afternoon?" said Harry.

"Defense Against the Dark Arts," said Hermione at once.

"_Why_," demanded Ron, seizing her schedule, "have you outlined all Lockhart's lessons in little hearts?"

Hermione snatched the schedule back, blushing furiously.

They finished lunch and went outside into the overcast courtyard. Hermione sat down on a stone step and buried her nose in _Voyages with Vampires_ again. Harry and Ron stood talking about Quidditch for several minutes before Harry became aware that he was being closely watched. Looking up, he saw the very small, mousy-haired boy he'd seen trying on the Sorting Hat last night staring at Harry as though transfixed. He was clutching what looked like an ordinary Muggle camera, and the moment Harry looked at him, he went bright red.

"All right, Harry? I'm - I'm Colin Creevey," he said breathlessly, taking a tentative step forward. "I'm in Gryffindor, too. D'you think - would it be all right if - can I have a picture?" he said, raising the camera hopefully.

"A picture?" Harry repeated blankly.

"So I can prove I've met you," said Colin Creevey eagerly, edging further forward. "I know all about you. Everyone's told me. About how you survived when You-Know-Who tried to kill you and how he disappeared and everything and how you've still got a lightning scar on your forehead" (his eyes raked Harry's hairline) "and a boy in my dormitory said if I develop the film in the right potion, the pictures'll _move_." Colin drew a great shuddering breath of excitement and said, "It's _amazing_ here, isn't it? I never knew all the odd stuff I could do was magic till I got the letter from Hogwarts. My dad's a milkman, he couldn't believe it either. So I'm taking loads of pictures to send home to him. And it'd be really good if I had one of you" - he looked imploringly at Harry - "maybe your friend could take it and I could stand next to you? And then, could you sign it?"

"_Signed photos_? You're giving out _signed photos_, Potter?"

Loud and scathing, Draco Malfoy's voice echoed around the courtyard. He had stopped right behind Colin, flanked, as he always was at Hogwarts, by his large and thuggish cronies, Crabbe and Goyle.

"Everyone line up!" Malfoy roared to the crowd. "Harry Potter's giving out signed photos!"

"No, I'm not," said Harry angrily, his fists clenching. "Shut up, Malfoy."

"Really, cousin," a very familiar voice drawled from behind Malfoy. "You must have some … _deficiencies_ if you can't hear words properly. But that makes sense, I suppose. Being too closely related to _anyone_ you marry would cause … _problems_."

Malfoy and his cronies whirled around to find Ben standing behind them, staring at Malfoy with a distinctly unimpressed look. Harry was still trying to process the fact that Ben and Malfoy were _cousins_.

"Jealousy doesn't become you, _cousin_," Ben continued, saying the last word with contempt. "Indeed, you're embarrassing your own house's ideals, being positively, _Gryffindor_, in action."

Malfoy colored red. "_Jealous_?" hissed Malfoy as the courtyard listened in. "Of what? I don't want a foul scar right across my head, thanks. I don't think getting your head cut open makes you that special, myself."

Crabbe and Goyle were sniggering stupidly.

"No," Ben responded. "You're jealous of his fame, which is stupid … unless you want your parents _dead_."

Complete silence followed that statement. Ben shot Harry a look of apology before focusing back on Malfoy. Colin looked completely shell shocked and apologetic, apparently horrified at his own lack of thought on the subject. Crabbe and Goyle looked to Malfoy as though asking him for directions. Malfoy's face was warring between going pale and red.

"What's all this, what's all this?" Gilderoy Lockhart was striding toward them, his turquoise robes swirling behind him. He appeared to catch sight of Colin's camera just as he asked "Who's jealous of what?"

Harry started to speak but he was cut short as Lockhart flung an arm around his shoulders and thundered jovially, "Shouldn't have asked! We meet again, Harry!"

Pinned to Lockhart's side and burning with humiliation, Harry saw Malfoy slide smirking yet still a little pale back into the crowd as Ben was pushed away.

"Come on then, Mr. Creevey," said Lockhart, beaming at Colin. "A double portrait, can't do better than that, and we'll _both_ sign it for you."

Colin fumbled for his camera and took the picture as the bell rang behind them, signaling the start of afternoon classes.

"Off you go, move along there," Lockhart called to the crowd, and he set off back to the castle with Harry, who was wishing he knew a good Vanishing Spell, still clasped to his side.

"A word to the wise, Harry," said Lockhart paternally as they entered the building through a side door. "I covered up for you back there with young Creevey - if he was photographing me, too, your schoolmates won't think you're setting yourself up so much … "

Deaf to Harry's stammers, Lockhart swept him down a corridor lined with staring students and up a staircase.

"Let me just say that handing out signed pictures at this stage of your career isn't sensible - looks a tad bigheaded, Harry, to be frank. There may well come a time when, like me, you'll need to keep a stack handy wherever you go, but" - he gave a little chortle - "I don't think you're quite there yet."

They had reached Lockhart's classroom and he let Harry go at last. Harry yanked his robes straight and headed for a seat at the very back of the class, where he busied himself with piling all seven of Lockhart's books in front of him, so that he could avoid looking at the real thing.

The rest of the class came clattering in, and Ron and Hermione sat down on either side of Harry as Ben sat in front of them.

"You could've fried an egg on your face," said Ron. "You'd better hope Creevey doesn't meet Ginny, or they'll be starting a Harry Potter fan club."

"Shut up," snapped Harry. The last thing he needed was for Lockhart to hear the phrase "Harry Potter fan club".

When the whole class was seated, Lockhart cleared his throat loudly and silence fell. He reached forward, picked up Neville Longbottom's copy of _Travels with Trolls_, and held it up to show his own, winking portrait on the front.

"Me," he said, pointing at it and winking as well. "Gilderoy Lockhart, Order of Merlin, Third Class, Honorary Member of the Dark Force Defense League, and five-time winner of _Witch Weekly_'s Most Charming Smile Award but I don't talk about that. I didn't get rid of the Bandon Banshee by _smiling_ at her!"

He waited for them to laugh; a few people smiled weakly.

"I see you've all bought a complete set of my books - well done. I thought we'd start today with a little quiz. Nothing to worry about - just to check how well you've read them, how much you've taken in -"

When he had handed out the test papers he returned to the front of the class and said, "You have thirty minutes - start - _now_!"

Harry looked down at his paper and read:

_1\. What is Gilderoy Lockhart's favorite color?_

_2\. What is Gilderoy Lockhart's secret ambition?_

_3\. What, in your opinion, is Gilderoy Lockhart's greatest achievement to date?_

On and on it went, over three sides of paper, right down to:

_54\. When is Gilderoy Lockhart's birthday, and what would his ideal gift be?_

Half an hour later, Lockhart collected the papers and rifled through them in front of the class.

"Tut, tut - hardly any of you remembered that my favorite color is lilac. I say so in _Year with the Yeti_. And a few of you need to read _Wanderings with Werewolves_ more carefully - I clearly state in chapter twelve that my ideal birthday gift would be harmony between all magic and non-magic peoples - though I wouldn't say no to a large bottle of Ogdeds Old Firewhisky!"

He gave them another roguish wink. Ron was now staring at Lockhart with an expression of disbelief on his face; Seamus Finnigan and Dean Thomas, who were sitting in front, were shaking with silent laughter. Hermione, on the other hand, was listening to Lockhart with rapt attention. Ben appeared to be banging his head softly on the desk, but sat upright when his name was mentioned.

" … Mr. Black seems to have confused most of the books with others. I never said anything about an egg man or a walrus in my books and I've never taken honey from a tree."

Many of the muggle raised in the classroom started giggling as they heard that. Harry noticed Hermione looked rather scandalized that Ben didn't take the test seriously. Harry doddled a few runes from a book at the Williams house of his test before he handed it in. He heard Ben softly goan, "By the Beatles, just start the -"

"Well, she was just seventeen," Lockhart started singing, suddenly, startling everyone in the classroom. "You know what I mean, And the way she looked, Was way beyond compare … "

Muggle raised students in the classroom all started laughing as Lockhart tried desperately to undo what effect had caused him to start singing music by the Beatles. Hermione was further scandalized, glaring at Ben. Ben himself, Harry noted through his laughter, was just as baffled as everyone else by this turn of events. By the end of the first song, everybody was laughing and a few were singing along. This continued through the rest of the lesson, not ending even as the bell rang. After everyone had left the classroom, Hermione cornered Ben.

"What did you do?!" Hermione yelled at Ben, causing him to flinch.

"I don't know," Ben said. "I wrote out as many Beatles lyrics as I could remember on my test and a rune scheme to make him remember it at random intervals. I didn't intend for him to keep singing."

"Er," Harry said, realizing something. Ben, Ron, and Hermione all turned to face him. "I did doddle a few runes on my test as well, d'you think … ?"

The other three looked at him before Ron and Ben burst out laughing. Hermione was still frowning in disapproval.

**AN: So, how's everyone doing in this time of crisis? I hope well. As of right know, my schedule hasn't changed, although I hope to increase the amount of writing that I do if I do end up being ****quarantined. Once I get to my own original writing fully, I think I'm going to speed up the timeframe of this story (around 5 chapters per year, maybe) but for now, I'm choosing to not to pull the story completely off the rails. That may be a sequel, however, due to the fact that Harry would already know (or thinks he knows) what's going to happen.**

**Uploaded Mar. 20th, 2020**


	12. 12 - Detention

(replaces chapter 7 of Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets)

The effects of the two runic schemes combining had unforeseen consequences on all those involved. Harry and Ben were given detentions with Lockhart by Professor McGonagall despite Harry's protests and her own apparent reluctance. Much more amusing to the boys was the fact that whenever somebody mentioned the Beatles or one of their songs, Lockhart would be forced to sing whatever it was. Ben had made a point to tell Fred and George about it and to tell them as many songs and albums as he could remember. The next day all of Hogwarts seemed to be discussing the music, meaning Lockhart never seemed to have a word to say for himself. The runic schemes also prevented anyone other than their target from disabling them before they ran out of energy, which seemed to be for the next year or two, according to what Harry overheard from Professors McGonagall and Babbling.

Harry spent a lot of time over the next few days dodging out of sight whenever he saw Gilderoy Lockhart coming down a corridor. Harder to avoid was Colin Creevey, who seemed to have memorized Harry's schedule. Nothing seemed to give Colin a bigger thrill than to say, "All right, Harry?" six or seven times a day and hear, "Hello, Colin," back, however exasperated Harry sounded when he said it. So with one thing and another, Harry was quite glad to reach the weekend. He, Ron, Hermione, and Ben were planning to visit Hagrid on Saturday morning. Harry, however, was shaken awake several hours earlier than he would have liked by Oliver Wood, Captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch team.

"Whassamatter?" said Harry groggily.

"Quidditch practice!" said Wood. "Come on!"

Harry squinted at the window. There was a thin mist hanging across the pink-and-gold sky.

Now that he was awake, he couldn't understand how he could have slept through the racket the birds were making.

"Oliver," Harry croaked. "It's the crack of dawn."

"Exactly," said Wood. He was a tall and burly sixth year and, at the moment, his eyes were gleaming with a crazed enthusiasm. "It's part of our new training program. Come on, grab your broom, and let's go," said Wood heartily. "None of the other teams have started training yet; we're going to be first off the mark this year -"

Yawning and shivering slightly, Harry climbed out of bed and tried to find his Quidditch robes. "Good man," said Wood. "Meet you on the field in fifteen minutes."

When he'd found his scarlet team robes and pulled on his cloak for warmth, Harry scribbled a note to Ron explaining where he'd gone and went down the spiral staircase to the common room, his Nimbus Two Thousand on his shoulder. He had just reached the portrait hole when there was a clatter behind him and Colin Creevey came dashing down the spiral staircase, his camera swinging madly around his neck and something clutched in his hand.

"I heard someone saying your name on the stairs, Harry! Look what I've got here! I've had it developed, I wanted to show you -"

Harry looked bemusedly at the photograph Colin was brandishing under his nose.

A moving, black-and-white Lockhart was tugging hard on an arm Harry recognized as his own. He was pleased to see that his photographic self was putting up a good fight and refusing to be dragged into view. As Harry watched, Lockhart gave up and slumped, Panting, against the white edge of the picture.

"Will you sign it?" said Colin eagerly.

"No," said Harry flatly, glancing around to check that the room was really deserted. "Sorry, Colin, I'm in a hurry - Quidditch practice -"

He climbed through the portrait hole.

"Oh, wow! Wait for me! I've never watched a Quidditch game before!"

Colin scrambled through the hole after him.

"It'll be really boring," Harry said quickly, but Colin ignored him, his face shining with excitement.

"You were the youngest House player in a hundred years, weren't you, Harry? Weren't you?" said Colin, trotting alongside him. "You must be brilliant. I've never flown. Is it easy? Is that your own broom? Is that the best one there is?"

Harry didn't know how to get rid of him. It was like having an extremely talkative shadow.

"I don't really understand Quidditch," said Colin breathlessly. "Is it true there are four balls? And two of them fly around trying to knock people off their brooms?"

"Yes," said Harry heavily, resigned to explaining the complicated rules of Quidditch. "They're called Bludgers. There are two Beaters on each team who carry clubs to beat the Bludgers away from their side. Fred and George Weasley are the Gryffindor Beaters."

"And what are the other balls for?" Colin asked, tripping down a couple of steps because he was gazing open-mouthed at Harry.

"Well, the Quaffle - that's the biggish red one - is the one that scores goals. Three Chasers on each team throw the Quaffle to each other and try and get it through the goal posts at the end of the pitch - they're three long poles with hoops on the end."

"And the fourth ball -"

"- is the Golden Snitch," said Harry, "and it's very small, very fast, and difficult to catch. But that's what the Seeker's got to do, because a game of Quidditch doesn't end until the Snitch has been caught. And whichever team's Seeker gets the Snitch earns his team an extra hundred and fifty points."

"And _you're_ the Gryffindor Seeker, aren't you?" said Colin in awe.

"Yes," said Harry as they left the castle and started across the dew-drenched grass. "And there's the Keeper, too. He guards the goal posts. That's it, really."

But Colin didn't stop questioning Harry all the way down the sloping lawns to the Quidditch field, and Harry only shook him off when he reached the changing rooms; Colin called after him in a piping voice, "I'll go and get a good seat, Harry!" and hurried off to the stands.

The rest of the Gryffindor team were already in the changing room. Wood was the only person who looked truly awake. Fred and George Weasley were sitting, puffy-eyed and tousle-haired, next to fourth year Alicia Spinnet, who seemed to be nodding off against the wall behind her. Her fellow Chasers, Katie Bell and Angelina Johnson, were yawning side by side opposite them.

"There you are, Harry, what kept you?" said Wood briskly. "Now, I wanted a quick talk with you all before we actually get onto the field, because I spent the summer devising a whole new training program, which I really think will make all the difference … "

Wood was holding up a large diagram of a Quidditch field, on which were drawn many lines, arrows, and crosses in different colored inks. He took out his wand, tapped the board, and the arrows began to wiggle over the diagram like caterpillars. As Wood launched into a speech about his new tactics, Fred Weasley's head drooped right onto Alicia Spinnet's shoulder and he began to snore.

The first board took nearly twenty minutes to explain, but there was another board under that, and a third under that one. Harry sank into a stupor as Wood droned on and on.

"So," said Wood, at long last, jerking Harry from a wistful fantasy about what he could be eating for breakfast at this very moment up at the castle. "Is that clear? Any questions?"

"I've got a question, Oliver," said George, who had woken with a start. "Why couldn't you have told us all this yesterday when we were awake?"

Wood wasn't pleased.

"Now, listen here, you lot," he said, glowering at them all. "We won the Quidditch cup last year. We're easily the best team. We _will_ win it again if I have anything to say about it!"

Wood took a moment to regain control of himself. Their last victory was clearly still affecting him.

"So this year, we train harder than ever before … Okay, let's go and put our new theories into practice!" Wood shouted, seizing his broomstick and leading the way out of the locker rooms. Stiff- legged and still yawning, his team followed.

They had been in the locker room so long that the sun was up completely now, although remnants of mist hung over the grass in the stadium. As Harry walked onto the field, he saw Ron, Hermione, and Ben sitting in the stands.

"Aren't you finished yet?" called Ron incredulously.

Haven't even started," said Harry, looking jealously at the toast and marmalade Ron and Hermione had brought out of the Great Hall. "Wood's been teaching us new moves."

Ben winced. "Is it always like this?"

"No, it's just Wood."

With that, Harry mounted his broomstick and kicked at the ground, soaring up into the air. The cool morning air whipped his face, waking him far more effectively than Wood's long talk. It felt wonderful to be back on the Quidditch field. He soared right around the stadium at full speed, racing Fred and George.

"What's that funny clicking noise?" called Fred as they hurtled around the corner.

Harry looked into the stands. Colin was sitting in one of the highest seats, his camera raised, taking picture after picture, the sound strangely magnified in the deserted stadium.

"Look this way, Harry! This way!" he cried shrilly.

"Who's that?" said Fred.

"No idea," Harry lied, putting on a spurt of speed that took him as far away as possible from Colin.

"What's going on?" said Wood, frowning, as he skimmed through the air toward them. "Why's that first year taking pictures? I don't like it. He could be a Slytherin spy, trying to find out about our new training program."

"He's in Gryffindor," said Harry quickly.

"And the Slytherins don't need a spy, Oliver," said George.

"What makes you say that?" said Wood testily.

"Because they're here in person," said George, pointing.

Several people in green robes were walking onto the field, broomsticks in their hands.

"I don't believe it!" Wood hissed in outrage. "I booked the field for today! We'll see about this!" Wood shot toward the ground, landing rather harder than he meant to in his anger, staggering slightly as he dismounted. Harry, Fred, and George followed.

"Flint!" Wood bellowed at the Slytherin Captain. "This is our practice time! We got up specially! You can clear off now!"

Marcus Flint was even larger than Wood. He had a look of trollish cunning on his face as he replied, "Plenty of room for all of us, Wood."

Angelina, Alicia, and Katie had come over, too. There were no girls on the Slytherin team, who stood shoulder to shoulder, facing the Gryffindors, leering to a man.

"But I booked the field!" said Wood, positively spitting with rage. "I booked it!"

"Ah," said Flint. "But I've got a specially signed note here from Professor Snape. '_I, Professor S. Snape, give the Slytherin team permission to practice today on the Quidditch field owing to the need to train their new Seeker'_. "

"You've got a new Seeker?" said Wood, distracted. "Where?"

And from behind the six large figures before them came a seventh, smaller boy, smirking all over his pale, pointed face. It was Draco Malfoy.

"Aren't you Lucius Malfoy's son?" said Fred, looking at Malfoy with dislike.

"Funny you should mention Draco's father," said Flint as the whole Slytherin team smiled still more broadly. "Let me show you the generous gift he's made to the Slytherin team."

All seven of them held out their broomsticks. Seven highly polished, brand-new handles and seven sets of fine gold lettering spelling the words _Nimbus Two Thousand and One_ gleamed under the Gryffindors' noses in the early morning sun.

"Very latest model. Only came out last month," said Flint carelessly, flicking a speck of dust from the end of his own. "I believe it outstrips the old Two Thousand series by a considerable amount. As for the old Cleansweeps" - he smiled nastily at Fred and George, who were both clutching Cleansweep Fives -" sweeps the board with them."

None of the Gryffindor team could think of anything to say for a moment. Malfoy was smirking so broadly his cold eyes were reduced to slits.

"Oh, look," said Flint. "A field invasion."

Ron, Hermione, and Ben were crossing the grass to see what was going on.

"What's happening?" Ron asked Harry. "Why aren't you playing? And what's _he_ doing here?" He was looking at Malfoy, taking in his Slytherin Quidditch robes.

"I'm the new Slytherin Seeker, Weasley," said Malfoy, smugly. "Everyone's just been admiring the brooms my father's bought our team.

Ron gaped, open-mouthed, at the seven superb broomsticks in front of him.

"Good, aren't they?" said Malfoy smoothly. "But perhaps the Gryffindor team will be able to raise some gold and get new brooms, too. You could raffle off those Cleansweep Fives; I expect a museum would bid for them."

The Slytherin team howled with laughter.

"At least no one on the Gryffindor team had to _buy_ their way in," said Hermione sharply. "They got in on pure talent."

The smug look on Malfoy's face flickered.

"No one asked your opinion, you filthy little Mudblood," he spat.

Harry knew at once that Malfoy had said something really bad because there was an instant uproar at his words. Flint had to dive in front of Malfoy to stop Fred and George jumping on him, Alicia shrieked, "_How dare you!" _Ben's reaction was something that Harry never would have expected. He went pure red and cried out "_Blood traitor!"_

Everyone stopped and stared as Ben pushed himself forward in front of Malfoy. "You, Draco, will _never_ be heir Black while I live. And if you keep talking like that, I will disown your mother, making her and you blood traitors according to the Ancient and Most Noble House of _Black_."

Everyone was still frozen as Malfoy went for his wand and, inarticulate with rage, pointed it at Ben. A loud bang echoed around the stadium and a jet of green light shot out of Malfoy's wand. Ben dodged out of the way of the spell, only for it to hit Ron. Ben quickly disarmed Malfoy before turning with the Gryffindors towards Ron.

"Ron! Ron! Are you all right?" squealed Hermione.

Ron opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. Instead he gave an almighty belch and several slugs dribbled out of his mouth onto his lap.

The Slytherin team were paralyzed with laughter. Flint was doubled up, hanging onto his new broomstick for support. Malfoy was on all fours, banging the ground with his fist. The Gryffindors and Ben were gathered around Ron, who kept belching large, glistening slugs. Nobody seemed to want to touch him.

"We'd better get him to Hagrid's, it's nearest," said Harry to Hermione, who nodded bravely, and the pair of them pulled Ron up by the arms.

"What happened, Harry? What happened? Is he ill? But you can cure him, can't you?" Colin had run down from his seat and was now dancing alongside them as they left the field. Ron gave a huge heave and more slugs dribbled down his front.

"Oooh," said Colin, fascinated and raising his camera. "Can you hold him still, Harry?"

"Get out of the way, Colin!" said Harry angrily. He and Hermione supported Ron out of the stadium and across the grounds towards the edge of the forest as Ben followed them.

"Nearly there, Ron," said Hermione as the gamekeeper's cabin came into view. "You'll be all right in a minute - almost there -"

They were within twenty feet of Hagrid's house when the front door opened, but it wasn't Hagrid who emerged. Gilderoy Lockhart, wearing robes of palest mauve today, came striding out.

"Quick, behind here," Harry hissed, dragging Ron behind a nearby bush. Hermione followed, somewhat reluctantly.

"It's a simple matter if you know what you're doing!" Lockhart was saying loudly to Hagrid. "If you need help, you know where I am! I'll let you have a copy of my book. I'm surprised you haven't already got one - I'll sign one tonight and send it over. Well, good-bye!" And he strode away toward the castle.

Harry waited until Lockhart was out of sight, then pulled Ron out of the bush and up to Hagrid's front door. They knocked urgently.

Hagrid appeared at once, looking very grumpy, but his expression brightened when he saw who it was.

"Bin wonderin' when you'd come ter see me - come in, come in - thought you mighta bin Professor Lockhart back again -"

Harry and Hermione supported Ron over the threshold into the one-roomed cabin, which had an enormous bed in one corner, a fire crackling merrily in the other. Hagrid didn't seem perturbed by Ron's slug problem, which Harry hastily explained as he lowered Ron into a chair.

"Better out than in," he said cheerfully, plunking a large copper basin in front of him. "Get 'em all up, Ron."

"I don't think there's anything to do except wait for it to stop," said Hermione anxiously, watching Ron bend over the basin.

Hagrid was bustling around making them tea. His boarhound, Fang, was slobbering over Harry. "What did Lockhart want with you, Hagrid?" Harry asked, scratching Fang's ears.

"Givin' me advice on gettin' kelpies out of a well," growled Hagrid, moving a half-plucked rooster off his scrubbed table and setting down the teapot. "Like I don' know. An' bangin' on about some banshee he banished. If one word of it was true, I'll eat my kettle."

It was most unlike Hagrid to criticize a Hogwarts' teacher, and Harry looked at him in surprise. Hermione, however, said in a voice somewhat higher than usual, "I think you're being a bit unfair. Professor Dumbledore obviously thought he was the best man for the job -"

"He was the _on'y_ man for the job," said Hagrid, offering them a plate of treacle toffee, while Ron coughed squelchily into his basin. "An' I mean the _on'y _one. Gettin' very difficult ter find anyone fer the Dark Arts job. People aren't too keen ter take it on, see. They're startin' ter think it's jinxed. No one's lasted long fer a while now. So tell me," said Hagrid, jerking his head at Ron. "What happened?"

"Malfoy called Hermione something - it must've been really bad, because everyone went wild."

"It was bad," said Ron hoarsely, emerging over the tabletop looking pale and sweaty as Ben growled. "Malfoy called her 'Mudblood,' Hagrid -"

Ron dived out of sight again as a fresh wave of slugs made their appearance. Hagrid looked outraged.

"He didn'!" he growled at Hermione.

"He did," she said. "But I don't know what it means. I could tell it was really rude, of course -"

"It's about the most insulting thing he could think of," gasped Ron, coming back up.

"Mudblood's a really foul name for someone who is Muggle-born - you know, non-magic parents. There are some wizards - like Malfoy's family - who think they're better than everyone else because they're what people call pure-blood." He gave a small burp, and a single slug fell into his outstretched hand. He threw it into the basin and continued, "I mean, the rest of us know it doesn't make any difference at all. Look at Neville Longbottom, he's pure-blood and he can hardly stand a cauldron the right way up."

"An' they haven't invented a spell our Hermione can' do," said Hagrid proudly, making Hermione go a brilliant shade of magenta.

"It's a disgusting thing to call someone," said Ron, wiping his sweaty brow with a shaking hand. "Dirty blood, see. Common blood. It's ridiculous. Most wizards these days are half-blood anyway. If we hadn't married Muggles we'd've died out."

He retched and ducked out of sight again.

Hermione turned to Ben, brow furrowed in confusion. "What's blood-traitor, then?"

Hagrid looked even angry at that, but before he could shout, Ben held up a hand. "That's a more complex topic. As it currently is, a blood-traitor is a pureblood that associates with the non-magicals and those born to them. What it used to mean, and the way that I applied it to Malfoy, was that a blood-traitor is just that, a traitor to their own immediate blood. A traitor to the family. This is what makes both such an offensive word and a grievous title to be saddled with." Ben gestured at Ron before continuing. "Thanks to his grandmother disobeying her family, the Weasleys are thought of as both kinds, even if it's cruel."

"Nothin' goin' to come of that, right?" Hagrid asked Ben, who nodded. "Ah, that's good. I 'spect Lucius Malfoy would've come marchin' up ter school if yeh'd done more ter his son. Least yer not in trouble."

Harry would have pointed out that trouble didn't come much worse than having slugs pouring out of your mouth, but he couldn't; Hagrid's treacle fudge had cemented his jaws together.

"Harry," said Hagrid abruptly as though struck by a sudden thought. "Gotta bone ter pick with yeh. I've heard you've bin givin' out signed photos. How come I haven't got one?"

Furious, Harry wrenched his teeth apart.

"I have _not_ been giving out signed photos," he said hotly. "If Lockhart's still spreading that around -"

But then he saw that Hagrid was laughing.

"I'm on'y jokin'," he said, patting Harry genially on the back and sending him face first into the table. "I knew yeh hadn't really. I told Lockhart yeh didn' need teh. Yer more famous than him without tryin'."

"Bet he didn't like that," said Harry, sitting up and rubbing his chin.

"Don' think he did," said Hagrid, his eyes twinkling. "An' then I told him I'd never read one o' his books an' he decided ter go. Treacle fudge, Ron?" he added as Ron reappeared.

"No thanks," said Ron weakly. "Better not risk it."

"Come an' see what I've bin growin'," said Hagrid as Harry, Hermione, and Ben finished the last of their tea.

In the small vegetable patch behind Hagrid's house were a dozen of the largest pumpkins Harry had ever seen. Each was the size of a large boulder.

"Gettin' on well, aren't they?" said Hagrid happily. "Fer the Halloween feast … should be big enough by then."

"What've you been feeding them?" said Harry.

Hagrid looked over his shoulder to check that they were alone.

"Well, I've bin givin' them - you know - a bit o' help -"

Harry noticed Hagrid's flowery pink umbrella leaning against the back wall of the cabin. Harry had had reason to believe before now that this umbrella was not all it looked; in fact, he had the strong impression that Hagrid's old school wand was concealed inside it. Hagrid wasn't supposed to use magic. He had been expelled from Hogwarts in his third year, but Harry had never found out why - any mention of the matter and Hagrid would clear his throat loudly and become mysteriously deaf until the subject was changed.

"An Engorgement Charm, I suppose?" said Hermione, halfway between disapproval and amusement. "Well, you've done a good job on them."

"That's what yer little sister said," said Hagrid, nodding at Ron. "Met her jus' yesterday." Hagrid looked sideways at Harry, his beard twitching. "Said she was jus' lookin' round the grounds, but I reckon she was hopin' she might run inter someone else at my house." He winked at Harry. "If yeh ask me, _she_ wouldn' say no ter a signed -"

"Oh, shut up," said Harry. Ben started laughing and Ron snorted with laughter and the ground was sprayed with slugs.

"Watch it!" Hagrid roared, pulling Ron away from his precious pumpkins.

It was nearly lunchtime and as Harry had only had one bit of treacle fudge since dawn, he was keen to go back to school to eat. They said good-bye to Hagrid and walked back up to the castle, Ron hiccoughing occasionally, but only bringing up two very small slugs.

Saturday afternoon seemed to melt away, and in what seemed like no time, it was five minutes to eight, and Harry was dragging his feet along the second-floor corridor to Lockhart's office alongside Ben. He gritted his teeth and knocked.

The door flew open at once. Lockhart beamed down at him.

"Ah, here's the scalawags!" he said. "Come in, Harry, Ben, come in -"

Shining brightly on the walls by the light of many candles were countless framed photographs of Lockhart. He had even signed a few of them. Another large pile lay on his desk.

"You can address the envelopes!" Lockhart told Harry, as though this was a huge treat. "This first one's to Gladys Gudgeon, bless her - huge fan of mine -"

The minutes snailed by, for the most part. Ben was humming under his breath and the few times Lockhart tried to engage him, he'd start singing what he was humming. Lockhart gave up after the third time, although Ben snuck around the first time it happened and grabbed something from Lockhart's desk. Harry let Lockhart's voice wash over him, occasionally saying, "Mmm" and "Right" and "Yeah." Now and then he caught a phrase like, "Fame's a fickle friend, Harry," or "Celebrity is as celebrity does, remember that."

The candles burned lower and lower, making the light dance over the many moving faces of Lockhart watching him. Harry moved his aching hand over what felt like the thousandth envelope, writing out Veronica Smethley's address. _It must be nearly time to leave,_ Harry thought miserably, _please let it be nearly time_…

And then he heard something - something quite apart from the spitting of the dying candles and Lockhart's prattle about his fans.

It was a voice, a voice to chill the bone marrow, a voice of breathtaking, ice-cold venom.

"_Come … come to me … Let me rip you … Let me tear you … Let me kill you … _"

Harry gave a huge jump and a large lilac blot appeared on Veronica Smethley's street.

"_What?_" he said loudly, startling Ben.

"I know!" said Lockhart. "Six solid months at the top of the best-seller list! Broke all records!"

"No," said Harry frantically. "That voice!"

"Sorry?" said Lockhart, looking puzzled. "What voice?"

Ben also looked at Harry in confusion.

"That - that voice that said - didn't you hear it?"

Lockhart was looking at Harry in high astonishment.

"What are you talking about, Harry? Perhaps you're getting a little drowsy? Great Scott - look at the time! We've been here nearly four hours! I'd never have believed it - the time's flown, hasn't it?"

Harry didn't answer. He was straining his ears to hear the voice again, but there was no sound now except for Lockhart telling him he mustn't expect a treat like this every time he got detention. Feeling dazed, Harry left.

"You heard a voice?" Ben asked, startling Harry out of his daze.

"Yeah, did you?"

"No. Have you encountered anything unusual that you could understand?"

Harry remembered his time going to the zoo. "Well, a boa constrictor seemed to understand me."

Ben turned pale. "Oh, oh that's not good. Harry, that's called being a parseltongue, understanding and speaking the language of snakes. The most famous parseltongues have been reportedly dark wizards like Slytherin himself. Don't tell a soul about this."

Harry was left feeling dazed again as Ben went off to the Ravenclaw dormitory.

It was so late that the Gryffindor common room was almost empty. Harry pulled on his pajamas as he started talking to Ron. Keeping his voice low so as not to wake Neville, Dean, and Seamus, Harry told Ron exactly what he had heard.

"And Lockhart and Ben couldn't hear it?" said Ron. Harry could see him frowning in the moonlight. "D'you think they were lying? But I don't get it - even someone invisible would've had to open the door."

"I know," said Harry, lying back in his four-poster and staring at the canopy above him. "I don't get it either."

**AN: Hope everybody's doing alright this week. I have gotten a bit sick, probably with the virus, but currently mild symptoms. As you can see, my schedule is not going to be interrupted, unless I'm dead, but that's a bigger problem.**

**Uploaded Apr. 3rd, 2020**


	13. 13 - Pranking for Luna

(original chapter in between chapters 7 and 8 in Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets)

A few days after the detention, Harry, Ron, and Hermione went to the library to confer with Ben and do their homework. As Harry spotted him, he noticed that there were two blonde girls seated with him. One was the girl from the train, now in a Ravenclaw robe, and the other was a Slytherin. The Slytherin was faintly smiling as Ben and his housemate were laughing. Ben spotted them and waved them over.

After the trio was seated at the table, even as Ron looked suspiciously at the Slytherin, Ben smiled and said, "Luna, Daphne, these are my friends, Harry Potter, Ronald Weasley, and Hermione Granger, guys, these are Luna Lovegood and Daphne Greengrass, my friends."

Harry, Ron, and Hermione said there hellos with various levels of caution, Daphne responded with about Harry's level, and Luna responded with no caution in her voice. Ben frowned at the tense atmosphere.

"Is something wrong?" Ben asked.

Ron responded passionately, "Why're sitting with a Slytherin? They're evil!"

Daphne and Ben's expressions darked, but it was Ben who responded. "Not all Slytherins are evil, Ronald. That'd be like saying that all Hogwarts professors are fair and just."

Ron paused, confusion clear on his face as Hermione, though scandalized, didn't protest. Harry knew they were both thinking of Snape.

"Still … " Ron weakly protested.

Daphne spoke, in a calm tone that Harry found a bit forced. "The Greengrass family have prided themselves on their neutrality in the Wizarding Wars of the last three centuries. We may have never publicly supported the Light, but neither have we supported the Dark."

"Those terms are rather inaccurate, anyway," Ben stated. "Good and evil, light and dark, both are a bit subjective. What many would define as evil or dark may merely be misunderstood. I don't support Voldemort or blood purists," Ben tone changed sharply as Ron and Hermione seemed like they were about to protest. "But neither do I support a viewpoint that bans knowledge just based on the fact that it has been used for foul purposes. If we preached understanding as much as we preached about magical might, _then_ there'd be less … oh, what's th - ah, _intolerance_ in this world."

"You truly believe that?" Harry asked, slightly stunned by Ben's rant.

"I do," Ben stated. "The root of all intolerance is _misunderstanding_. If you knew what you hated or feared, would you hate or fear it as intensely?"

Harry pondered this. Certainly, if he knew more about Voldemort's history, he might have more pity for him. _How did he become like that,_ Harry wondered, slightly curious now.

"Wrackspurts seem to have surrounded them, Ben," Luna piped up.

"What?" Hermione asked, clearly confused.

"Wrackspurts … They're invisible. They float in through your ears and make your brain go fuzzy, I thought I felt some zooming around in here."

Harry, Ron, and Hermione exchanged bewildered glances as Ben and Daphne appeared to be attempting not to laugh. Well, Ben appeared to be, Daphne was merely smiling faintly.

"Luna's, well, unique," Ben stated, still struggling not to laugh. "She has views on animals not yet discovered by conventional means. It certainly helps that her father owns _The Quibbler_." Hermione appeared to be about to say something before looking at Luna and restraining herself. Ben, appearing to not have noticed, still gained a sour expression. "She's still having trouble here."

"Trouble?" Harry asked.

"I'm being called Loony and my stuff is being stolen," Luna said, appearing unbothered by what's been happening.

"What?!" Hermione hissed in anger. "Why haven't the teachers -"

"We tried reporting it to Professor Flitwick," Daphne said, disdain in her voice. "He told us that official policy is that 'name-calling never hurt anyone'."

"Who created this policy?" Hermione asked, still hissing.

"The Headmaster, of course," Ben said, fury still in his eyes.

"What?!" Harry and Hermione hissed in tandem.

Ron looked confused. "What's the big deal? I mean -"

"Do you enjoy being called a blood traitor?" Ben interrupted. "Does it harm you? If I said you'd never amount to anything, which is not my view, wouldn't it hurt?"

Ron looked hurt before adopting a more understanding look. "I see."

"Since school policy is such, I'm retaliating. Tomorrow at breakfast, my retaliation will come into effect," Ben stated.

"What is it?" Ron asked.

"You'll see."

* * *

The next day, Harry woke up curious about what Ben was planning. After he woke Ron up and met Hermione in the common room, the trio headed to breakfast. As they sat down Harry noticed Ben had finished eating and was sitting next to Luna, in deep discussion. He looked up from his discussion every so often to sweep his eyes across his house table. During one of these sweeps, Harry noticed that Ginny walked in and sat at the far end of the Gryffindor table.

About twenty minutes until breakfast was done, Ben smiled after he finished his sweep and tapped his fork against his goblet. Students all across the Ravenclaw table stiffened, the word 'thief' appearing on the back of their robes as they started to sing, "I admit that in the past I've been a nasty …", which Harry recognized from a movie that Ben and Hope made him watch. The muggle raised students started laughing at the others' confusion, some even singing along.

As the song ended, the students who started singing seemed distressed. Professors McGonagall, Flitwick, and Dumbledore all went over to the Ravenclaw table, wands raised. As Professors Flitwick and McGonagall attempted to dispel the enchantment, Professor Dumbledore asked the table, "Who is responsible for this?"

Ben stood and bowed. "I am, Headmaster. Since you adopted a policy that doesn't punish thieves, I decided to do it for you. Oh, and Professors, the full enchantment will only dispel if the thieves return what was stolen in a public area in front of at least twenty students and apologize and declare themselves thieves. Oh, and at least five points must be taken from each of them."

Harry noticed that Flitwick was proud of this while McGonagall looked conflicted. All those under the enchantment looked mortified while Dumbledore radiated grandfatherly disappointment. He said, "Mr. Black, you must learn to _forgive_, my boy."

Ben rolled his eyes. "I do forgive and give a second chance to those who truly repent, but these are repeat offenders. You wouldn't let a mass murderer go just because he said he's sorry, right? All I'm doing is name-calling, and," Ben shifted slightly to mimic Dumbledore's posture, "that never hurt anyone, right?"

Flitwick was openly smiling while McGonagall's lips were twitching. Harry looked around the hall to see how everyone was reacting to the discussion. Many seemed to agree with it, although some, such as Hermione and Percy, seemed conflicted. Daphne was nodding and smiling slightly, while Ron was smiling widely, clearly thinking about how much Malfoy would get in trouble. Ginny was writing furiously in a diary of some kind. Malfoy and Dumbledore, however, looked like they had been punched in the gut.

Flitwick spoke out now. "While I don't approve of your methods, I support your idea. Five points will be awarded for a well reasoned idea and take another twenty for your spellwork." He turned to the group of 'thieves'. "As for you, know that I'm extremely disappointed in your behavior. Each of you is losing five points for each day, starting today, that the word 'thief' is on your back and receiving a detention for stealing from a student."

Ben nodded. Harry thought that he was thinking something along the lines of _justice is done_.

* * *

The fallout of this was immediate. Those who bullied Luna returned her things by the next day at the latest. Ravenclaw lost a total of over a hundred points due to the fallout. Ben could often be seen discussing various things with students from a variety of houses. With Hufflepuffs, justice and fairness often seemed to be the topics of choice, while with Gryffindors it was the moments to act against an unfair system.

Harry asked Ben how he felt about being the center of attention about a week later.

Ben looked tiredly at Harry. "It's bloody exhausting. I don't know how you put up with it."

Ron chose that moment to speak up. "What d'you mean? It looks brilliant."

Ben switched his tired gaze to Ron. "I'm an introvert." At Ron's clueless look, he elaborated. "That means I don't feel energized by social situations, quite the contrary, I feel drained when I interact with a large amount of people. Being a bit shy also exacerbates it. An extrovert is the opposite, are you an extrovert?"

Ron started thinking. He opened and closed his mouth several times. He replied with a yes in an unsure tone. Harry knew that he, himself, was an introvert.

Ben nodded at Ron's response as he stood. "Right, now we've got a potions essay due in a week, so I'd suggest you get started now. I'm off to talk to Daphne."

Ron groaned at the thought of doing his homework this early.

**AN: I hope everyone's doing well. I want to address some of the comments I've been getting. To everyone who's liked, followed, or reviewed this story, I want to thank you. And to AsTheyBurnInHell'sFlames, I'm not going to go out of my way to bash Dumbledore, although I do enjoy those fics. Thank you all for your support, I'm not used to having my writing praised (even though this is mostly editing).**

**Uploaded Apr. 17th, 2020**


	14. 14 - Cursed Halloween

(Replaces chapter 8 of Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets)

October arrived, spreading a damp chill over the grounds and into the castle. Madam Pomfrey, the nurse, was kept busy by a sudden spate of colds among the staff and students. Her Pepperup potion worked instantly, though it left the drinker smoking at the ears for several hours afterward. Ginny Weasley, who had been looking pale, was bullied into taking some by Percy. The steam pouring from under her vivid hair gave the impression that her whole head was on fire. Raindrops the size of bullets thundered on the castle windows for days on end; the lake rose, the flower beds turned into muddy streams, and Hagrid's pumpkins swelled to the size of garden sheds. Oliver Wood's enthusiasm for regular training sessions, however, was not dampened, which was why Harry was to be found, late one stormy Saturday afternoon a few days before Halloween, returning to Gryffindor Tower, drenched to the skin and splattered with mud.

Even aside from the rain and wind it hadn't been a happy practice session. Fred and George, who had been spying on the Slytherin team, had seen for themselves the speed of those new Nimbus Two Thousand and Ones. They reported that the Slytherin team was no more than seven greenish blurs, shooting through the air like missiles. As Harry squelched along the deserted corridor he came across somebody who looked just as preoccupied as he was. Nearly Headless Nick, the ghost of Gryffindor Tower, was staring morosely out of a window, muttering under his breath, " … don't fulfill their requirements … half an inch, if that … "

"Hello, Nick," said Harry.

"Hello, hello," said Nearly Headless Nick, starting and looking round. He wore a dashing, plumed hat on his long curly hair, and a tunic with a ruff, which concealed the fact that his neck was almost completely severed. He was pale as smoke, and Harry could see right through him to the dark sky and torrential rain outside.

"You look troubled, young Potter," said Nick, folding a transparent letter as he spoke and tucking it inside his doublet.

"So do you," said Harry.

"Ah," Nearly Headless Nick waved an elegant hand, "a matter of no importance … It's not as though I really wanted to join … Thought I'd apply, but apparently I 'don't fulfill requirements' -"

In spite of his airy tone, there was a look of great bitterness on his face.

"But you would think, wouldn't you," he erupted suddenly, pulling the letter back out of his pocket, "that getting hit forty-five times in the neck with a blunt axe would qualify you to join the Headless Hunt?"

"Oh - yes," said Harry, who was obviously supposed to agree.

"Yep," Harry heard as a hand clapped him on the back. He turned to see that it was Ben.

"I mean, nobody wishes more than I do that it had all been quick and clean, and my head had come off properly, I mean, it would have saved me a great deal of pain and ridicule. However -" Nearly Headless Nick shook his letter open and read furiously:

"'_We can only accept huntsmen whose heads have parted company with their bodies. You will appreciate that it would be impossible otherwise for members to participate in hunt activities such as Horseback Head-Juggling and Head Polo. It is with the greatest regret, therefore, that I must inform you that you do not fulfill our requirements. With very best wishes, Sir Patrick Delaney-Podmore.'_"

Fuming, Nearly Headless Nick stuffed the letter away.

"Half an inch of skin and sinew holding my neck on, Harry! Most people would think that's good and beheaded, but oh, no, it's not enough for Sir Properly Decapitated-Podmore."

Nearly Headless Nick took several deep breaths and then said, in a far calmer tone, "So - what's bothering you? Anything I can do?"

"No," said Harry as Ben snorted. "Not unless you know where we can get seven free Nimbus Two Thousand and Ones for our match against Sly-"

The rest of Harry's sentence was drowned out by a high-pitched mewling from somewhere near his ankles. He looked down and found himself gazing into a pair of lamp-like yellow eyes. It was Mrs. Norris, the skeletal gray cat who was used by the caretaker, Argus Filch, as a sort of deputy in his endless battle against students.

"You'd better get out of here, Harry," said Nick quickly. "Filch isn't in a good mood - he's got the flu and some third years accidentally plastered frog brains all over the ceiling in dungeon five. He's been cleaning all morning, and if he sees you dripping mud all over the place -"

"Right," said Harry, backing away from the accusing stare of Mrs. Norris, but not quickly enough. Drawn to the spot by the mysterious power that seemed to connect him with his foul cat, Argus Filch burst suddenly through a tapestry to Harry's right, wheezing and looking wildly about for the rule-breaker. There was a thick tartan scarf bound around his head, and his nose was unusually purple.

"Filth!" he shouted, his jowls aquiver, his eyes popping alarmingly as he pointed at the muddy puddle that had dripped from Harry's Quidditch robes. "Mess and muck everywhere! I've had enough of it, I tell you! Follow me, Potter!"

So Harry waved a gloomy good-bye to Nearly Headless Nick and Ben and followed Filch back downstairs, doubling the number of muddy footprints on the floor. Harry had never been inside

Filch's office before; it was a place most students avoided. The room was dingy and windowless, lit by a single oil lamp dangling from the low ceiling. A faint smell of fried fish lingered about the place. Wooden filing cabinets stood around the walls; from their labels, Harry could see that they contained details of every pupil Filch had ever punished. Fred and George Weasley had an entire drawer to themselves. A highly polished collection of chains and manacles hung on the wall behind Filch's desk. It was common knowledge that he was always begging Dumbledore to let him suspend students by their ankles from the ceiling.

Filch grabbed a quill from a pot on his desk and began shuffling around looking for parchment.

"Dung," he muttered furiously, "great sizzling dragon bogies … frog brains … rat intestines … I've had enough of it … make an example … where's the form … yes … "

He retrieved a large roll of parchment from his desk drawer and stretched it out in front of him, dipping his long black quill into the ink pot.

"_Name_ … Harry Potter. _Crime _… "

"It was only a bit of mud!" said Harry.

"It's only a bit of mud to you, boy, but to me it's an extra hour scrubbing!" shouted Filch, a drip shivering unpleasantly at the end of his bulbous nose. "_Crime _… befouling the castle … _suggested sentence_ … "

Dabbing at his streaming nose, Filch squinted unpleasantly at Harry who waited with bated breath for his sentence to fall.

But as Filch lowered his quill, there was a great BANG! on the ceiling of the office, which made the oil lamp rattle.

"PEEVES!" Filch roared, flinging down his quill in a transport of rage. "I'll have you this time, I'll have you!"

And without a backward glance at Harry, Filch ran flat-footed from the office, Mrs. Norris streaking alongside him.

Peeves was the school poltergeist, a grinning, airborne menace who lived to cause havoc and distress. Harry didn't much like Peeves, but couldn't help feeling grateful for his timing. Hopefully, whatever Peeves had done (and it sounded as though he'd wrecked something very big this time) would distract Filch from Harry.

Thinking that he should probably wait for Filch to come back, Harry sank into a moth-eaten chair next to the desk. There was only one thing on it apart from his half-completed form: a large, glossy, purple envelope with silver lettering on the front. With a quick glance at the door to check that Filch wasn't on his way back, Harry picked up the envelope and read:

_Kwikspell_

_A Correspondence Course in Beginners' Magic._

Intrigued, Harry flicked the envelope open and pulled out the sheaf of parchment inside. More curly silver writing on the front page said:

_Feel out of step in the world of modern magic? Find yourself making excuses not to perform simple spells? Ever been taunted for your woeful wandwork?_

_There is an answer!_

_Kwikspell is an all-new, fail-safe, quick-result, easy-learn course. Hundreds of witches and wizards have benefited from the Kwikspell method!_

_Madam Z. Nettles of Topsham writes:_

"_I had no memory for incantations and my potions were a family joke! Now, after a Kwikspell course, I am the center of attention at parties and friends beg for the recipe of my Scintillation Solution!"_

_Warlock D. J. Prod of Didsbury says:_

"_My wife used to sneer at my feeble charms, but one month into your fabulous Kwikspell course and I succeeded in turning her into a yak! Thank you, Kwikspell!"_

Fascinated, Harry thumbed through the rest of the envelope's contents. Why on earth did Filch want a Kwikspell course? Did this mean he wasn't a proper wizard? Harry was just reading _Lesson One: Holding Your Wand (Some Useful Tips) _when shuffling footsteps outside told him Filch was coming back. Stuffing the parchment back into the envelope, Harry threw it back onto the desk just as the door opened.

Filch was looking triumphant.

"That vanishing cabinet was extremely valuable!" he was saying gleefully to Mrs. Norris. "We'll have Peeves out this time, my sweet -"

His eyes fell on Harry and then darted to the Kwikspell envelope, which, Harry realized too late, was lying two feet away from where it had started.

Filch's pasty face went brick red. Harry braced himself for a tidal wave of fury. Filch hobbled across to his desk, snatched up the envelope, and threw it into a drawer.

"Have you - did you read -?" he sputtered. "No," Harry lied quickly.

Filch's knobbly hands were twisting together.

"If I thought you'd read my private - not that it's mine - for a friend - be that as it may - however -"

Harry was staring at him, alarmed; Filch had never looked madder. His eyes were popping, a tic was going in one of his pouchy cheeks, and the tartan scarf didn't help.

"Very well - go - and don't breathe a word - not that - however, if you didn't read - go now, I have to write up Peeves' report - go -"

Amazed at his luck, Harry sped out of the office, up the corridor, and back upstairs. To escape from Filch's office without punishment was probably some kind of school record.

"Harry! Harry! Did it work?"

Nearly Headless Nick came gliding out of a classroom. Behind him, Harry could see the wreckage of a large black-and-gold cabinet that appeared to have been dropped from a great height. Ben appeared around the corner just as Nick floated in front of Harry.

"We persuaded Peeves to crash it right over Filch's office," said Nick eagerly. "Thought it might distract him -"

"Was that you?" said Harry gratefully. "Yeah, it worked, I didn't even get detention. Thanks, Nick, Ben!"

They set off up the corridor together. Nearly Headless Nick, Harry noticed, was still holding Sir Patrick's rejection letter …

Ben interrupted his train of thought. "So, speaking of Halloween, are we still going to mourn in private this year?"

"Oh?" Nick asked.

Ben turned to Nick. "Halloween is the day that Harry's parents die, so I suggested to Harry that after the feast, or around that time, we and some other of Harry's friends mourn the loss of his parents."

"I see," Nick said contemplatively.

Ben and Harry walked in companionable silence until Ben had to take a different corridor. "See you around," he said to Harry.

"See you." Harry waved, before departing to the Gryffindor common room.

* * *

"Oh, Harry, of course we'll come!" said Hermione keenly when Harry had changed at last and joined her and Ron in the common room. "Won't we, Ron?"

"Of course we will!" said Ron, who was halfway through his Potions homework and grumpy. "Do you think I wouldn't help Harry through this?"

Rain was still lashing the windows, which were now inky black, but inside all looked bright and cheerful. The firelight glowed over the countless squashy armchairs where people sat reading, talking, doing homework or, in the case of Fred and George Weasley, trying to find out what would happen if you fed a Filibuster firework to a salamander. Fred had "rescued" the brilliant orange, fire- dwelling lizard from a Care of Magical Creatures class and it was now smoldering gently on a table surrounded by a knot of curious people.

Harry was at the point of telling Ron and Hermione about Filch and the Kwikspell course when the salamander suddenly whizzed into the air, emitting loud sparks and bangs as it whirled wildly round the room. The sight of Percy bellowing himself hoarse at Fred and George, the spectacular display of tangerine stars showering from the salamander's mouth, and its escape into the fire, with accompanying explosions, drove both Filch and the Kwikspell envelope from Harry's mind.

By the time Halloween arrived, Harry was happy that they decided to go off after they had eaten their fill at the feast. Everybody was happily anticipating their Halloween feast; the Great Hall had been decorated with the usual live bats, Hagrid's vast pumpkins had been carved into lanterns large enough for three men to sit in, and there were rumors that Dumbledore had booked a troupe of dancing skeletons for the entertainment.

After finishing their meals and just as the dancing skeletons were about to start, Harry and his friends left the feast to go to a private classroom and remember those who lost their lives in the war. The four friends spent a good ten minutes saying good things about the deceased before sharing stories they heard about them. Nobody had very many, Harry having more only than Hermione, but they spent some time telling them. When they left the room, no one had a dry eye.

As they headed up towards their dorms, Harry heard it.

" … _rip … tear … kill … "_

It was the same voice, the same cold, murderous voice he had heard in Lockhart's office.

He stumbled to a halt, clutching at the stone wall, listening with all his might, looking around, squinting up and down the dimly lit passageway.

"Harry, what're you -?"

"It's that voice again - shut up a minute -"

" … _soo hungry … for so long … "_

"Listen!" said Harry urgently, and Ron and Hermione froze, watching him as Ben stared in confusion, then concern, as though he realized something troubling.

" … _kill … time to kill … "_

The voice was growing fainter. Harry was sure it was moving away - moving upward. A mixture of fear and excitement gripped him as he stared at the dark ceiling; how could it be moving upward? Was it a phantom, to whom stone ceilings didn't matter?

"This way," he shouted, and he began to run, up the stairs, into the entrance hall. It was no good hoping to hear anything here, the babble of talk from the Halloween feast was echoing out of the Great Hall. Harry sprinted up the marble staircase to the first floor, Ron, Ben, and Hermione clattering behind him.

"Harry, what're we -"

"SHH!"

Harry strained his ears. Distantly, from the floor above, and growing fainter still, he heard the voice: " … _I smell blood … I SMELL BLOOD!"_

His stomach lurched -

"It's going to kill someone!" he shouted, and ignoring Ron's and Hermione's bewildered faces, as well as Ben's panicking face, he ran up the next flight of steps three at a time, trying to listen over his own pounding footsteps - Harry hurtled around the whole of the second floor, Ron and Hermione panting behind him, not stopping until they turned a corner into the last, deserted passage.

"Harry, _what_ was that all about?" said Ron, wiping sweat off his face. "I couldn't hear anything … "

But Hermione gave a sudden gasp, pointing down the corridor.

"_Look!"_

Something was shining on the wall ahead. They approached slowly, squinting through the

darkness. Foot-high words had been daubed on the wall between two windows, shimmering in the light cast by the flaming torches.

_THE CHAMBER OF SECRETS HAS BEEN OPENED._

_ENEMIES OF THE HEIR, BEWARE_

"What's that thing - hanging underneath?" said Ron, a slight quiver in his voice.

As they edged nearer, Harry almost slipped - there was a large puddle of water on the floor; Ron and Hermione grabbed him, and they inched toward the message, eyes fixed on a dark shadow beneath it. All four of them realized what it was at once, and leapt backward with a splash and in Ben's case, a whimper.

Mrs. Norris, the caretaker's cat, was hanging by her tail from the torch bracket. She was stiff as a board, her eyes wide and staring.

For a few seconds, they didn't move. Then Ron said, "Let's get out of here."

"Shouldn't we try and help -" Harry began awkwardly.

"Trust me," said Ron. "We don't want to be found here."

But it was too late. A rumble, as though of distant thunder, told them that the feast had just ended. From either end of the corridor where they stood came the sound of hundreds of feet climbing the stairs, and the loud, happy talk of well-fed people; next moment, students were crashing into the passage from both ends.

The chatter, the bustle, the noise died suddenly as the people in front spotted the hanging cat. Harry, Ron, and Hermione stood alone, in the middle of the corridor, as silence fell among the mass of students pressing forward to see the grisly sight.

Then someone shouted through the quiet.

"Enemies of the Heir, beware! You'll be next, Mudbloods!"

It was Draco Malfoy. He had pushed to the front of the crowd, his cold eyes alive, his usually bloodless face flushed, as he grinned at the sight of the hanging, immobile cat. Although he quickly lost the look as his mouth was filled with soap bubbles, courtesy of Ben.

**AN: Well, changes are starting to accumulate. I still don't know when third year will come around, but major changes are starting in the future. I recently found out a game that I always wanted to try was free, so that has taken up a chunk of my time. I will be writing more again soon, as I'm starting to need to do something else.**

**Uploaded: Apr. 1st, 2020**


	15. 15 - De-Boned

(replaces later part of chapter 10 of Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets)

Madam Pomfrey wasn't at all pleased.

"You should have come straight to me!" she raged, holding up the sad, limp remainder of what, half an hour before, had been a working arm. "I can mend bones in a second - but growing them back -"

"You will be able to, won't you?" said Harry desperately.

"I'll be able to, certainly, but it will be painful," said Madam Pomfrey grimly, throwing Harry a pair of pajamas. "You'll have to stay the night… "

Hermione waited outside the curtain drawn around Harry's bed while Ben and Ron helped him into his pajamas. It took a while to stuff the rubbery, boneless arm into a sleeve.

"How can you stick up for Lockhart now, Hermione, eh?" Ron called through the curtain as he pulled Harry's limp fingers through the cuff. "If Harry had wanted deboning he would have asked."

"Anyone can make a mistake," said Hermione. "And it doesn't hurt anymore, does it, Harry?"

"No," said Harry, getting into bed. "But it doesn't do anything else either."

As he swung himself onto the bed, his arm flapped pointlessly.

Hermione and Madam Pomfrey came around the curtain. Madam Pomfrey was holding a large bottle of something labeled Skele-Gro.

"You're in for a rough night," she said, pouring out a steaming beakerful and handing it to him.

"Regrowing bones is a nasty business."

So was taking the Skele-Gro. It burned Harry's mouth and throat as it went down, making him cough and splutter. Still tut-tutting about dangerous sports and inept teachers, Madam Pomfrey retreated, leaving Ron, Ben, and Hermione to help Harry gulp down some water. "We won, though," said Ron, a grin breaking across his face. "That was some catch you made. Malfoy's face… he looked ready to kill… "

"I want to know how he fixed that Bludger," said Hermione darkly.

"We can add that to the list of questions we'll ask him when we've taken the Polyjuice Potion," said Harry, sinking back onto his pillows. "I hope it tastes better than this stuff… "

"If it's got bits of Slytherins in it? You've got to be joking," said Ron.

"I still don't approve of this plan," Ben stated. "Why you don't take Daphne's word that Malfoy's foul but not responsible, I'll never know. I still think we should be looking for descendents of that prefect I found."

"You mean Tom Riddle?" Harry asked. Ben nodded while Ron groaned.

"And I've told you, Ben, that there are no Riddles in our world."

Before Ben could retort, the door of the hospital wing burst open. Filthy and soaking wet, the rest of the Gryffindor team had arrived to see Harry. "Unbelievable flying, Harry," said George. "I've just seen Marcus Flint yelling at Malfoy. Something about having the Snitch on top of his head and not noticing. Malfoy didn't seem too happy." They had brought cakes, sweets, and bottles of pumpkin juice; they gathered around Harry's bed and were just getting started on what promised to be a good party when Madam Pomfrey came storming over, shouting, "This boy needs rest, he's got thirty - three bones to regrow! Out! OUT!" And Harry was left alone, with nothing to distract him from the stabbing pains in his limp arm.

* * *

Hours and hours later, Harry woke quite suddenly in the pitch blackness and gave a small yelp of pain: His arm now felt full of large splinters. For a second, he thought that was what had woken him. Then, with a thrill of horror, he realized that someone was sponging his forehead in the dark.

"Get off!" he said loudly, and then, "Dobby!"

The house-elf's goggling tennis ball eyes were peering at Harry through the darkness. A single tear was running down his long, pointed nose.

"Harry Potter came back to school," he whispered miserably. "Dobby warned and warned Harry Potter. Ah sir, why didn't you heed Dobby? Why didn't Harry Potter go back home when he was sealed from the train entrance?"

Harry heaved himself up on his pillows and pushed Dobby's sponge away.

"What're you doing here?" he said. "And how did you know I nearly missed the train?"

Dobby's lip trembled and Harry was seized by a sudden suspicion.

"It was you!" he said slowly. "You stopped the barrier from letting us through!"

"Indeed yes, sir," said Dobby, nodding his head vigorously, ears flapping. "Dobby hid and watched for Harry Potter and sealed the gateway and Dobby had to iron his hands afterward" - he showed Harry ten long, bandaged fingers - "but Dobby didn't care, sir, for he thought Harry Potter was safe, and never did Dobby dream that Harry Potter would get to school another way!"

He was rocking backward and forward, shaking his ugly head.

"Dobby was so shocked when he heard Harry Potter was back at Hogwarts, he let his master's dinner burn! Such a flogging Dobby never had, sir… "

Harry slumped back onto his pillows.

"If it wasn't for Ben, Ron and I might have never made it here," he stated with some heat. "You'd better get lost before my bones come back, Dobby, or I might punch you."

Dobby smiled weakly.

"Dobby is used to death threats, sir. Dobby gets them five times a day at home."

He blew his nose on a corner of the filthy pillowcase he wore, looking so pathetic that Harry felt his anger ebb away in spite of himself.

"Why d'you wear that thing, Dobby?" he asked curiously.

"This, sir?" said Dobby, plucking at the pillowcase. "'Tis a mark of the house-elf's enslavement, sir. Dobby can only be freed if his masters present him with clothes, sir. The family is careful not to pass Dobby even a sock, sir, for then he would be free to leave their house forever."

Dobby mopped his bulging eyes and said suddenly, "Harry Potter must go home! Dobby thought his Bludger would be enough to make -"

"Your Bludger?" said Harry, anger rising once more. "What d'you mean, your Bludger? You made that Bludger try and kill me?"

"Not kill you, sir, never kill you!" said Dobby, shocked. "Dobby wants to save Harry Potter's life! Better sent home, grievously injured, than remain here sir! Dobby only wanted Harry Potter hurt enough to be sent home!"

"Oh, is that all?" said Harry angrily. "I don't suppose you're going to tell me why you wanted me sent home in pieces?"

"Ah, if Harry Potter only knew!" Dobby groaned, more tears dripping onto his ragged pillowcase. "If he knew what he means to us, to the lowly, the enslaved, we dregs of the magical world! Dobby remembers how it was when He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was at the height of his powers, sir! We house-elves were treated like vermin, sir! Of course, Dobby is still treated like that, sir," he admitted, drying his face on the pillowcase. "But mostly, sir, life has improved for my kind since you triumphed over He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. Harry Potter survived, and the Dark Lord's power was broken, and it was a new dawn, sir, and Harry Potter shone like a beacon of hope for those of us who thought the Dark days would never end, sit… And now, at Hogwarts, terrible things are to happen, are perhaps happening already, and Dobby cannot let Harry Potter stay here now that history is to repeat itself, now that the Chamber of Secrets is open once more."

Dobby froze, horrorstruck, then grabbed Harry's water jug from his bedside table and cracked it over his own head, toppling out of sight. A second later, he crawled back onto the bed, cross-eyed, muttering, "Bad Dobby, very bad Dobby… "

"So there is a Chamber of Secrets?" Harry whispered. "And did you say it's been opened before? Tell me, Dobby!"

He seized the elf's bony wrist as Dobby's hand inched toward the water jug. "But I'm not Muggle-born - how can I be in danger from the Chamber?"

"Ah, sir, ask no more, ask no more of poor Dobby," stammered the elf, his eyes huge in the dark. "Dark deeds are planned in this place, but Harry Potter must not be here when they happen - go home, Harry Potter, go home. Harry Potter must not meddle in this, sir, 'tis too dangerous -"

"Who is it, Dobby?" Harry said, keeping a firm hold on Dobby's wrist to stop him from hitting himself with the water jug again. "Who's opened it? Who opened it last time?"

"Dobby can't, sir, Dobby can't, Dobby mustn't tell!" squealed the elf. "Go home, Harry Potter, go home!"

"I'm not going anywhere!" said Harry fiercely. "One of my best friends is Muggle-born; she'll be first in line if the Chamber really has been opened -"

"Harry Potter risks his own life for his friends!" moaned Dobby in a kind of miserable ecstasy. "So noble! So valiant! But he must save himself, he must, Harry Potter must not -"

Dobby suddenly froze, his bat ears quivering. Harry heard it, too. There were footsteps coming down the passageway outside.

"Dobby must go!" breathed the elf, terrified. There was a loud crack, and Harry's fist was suddenly clenched on thin air. He slumped back into bed, his eyes on the dark doorway to the hospital wing as the footsteps drew nearer.

Next moment, Dumbledore was backing into the dormitory, wearing a long woolly dressing gown and a nightcap. He was carrying one end of what looked like a statue. Professor McGonagall appeared a second later, carrying its feet. Together, they heaved it onto a bed.

"Get Madam Pomfrey," whispered Dumbledore, and Professor McGonagall hurried past the end of Harry's bed out of sight. Harry lay quite still, pretending to be asleep. He heard urgent voices, and then Professor McGonagall swept back into view, closely followed by Madam Pomfrey, who was pulling a cardigan on over her nightdress. He heard a sharp intake of breath.

"What happened?" Madam Pomfrey whispered to Dumbledore, bending over the statue on the bed.

"Another attack," said Dumbledore. "Minerva found him on the stairs."

"There was a bunch of grapes next to him," said Professor McGonagall. "We think he was trying to sneak up here to visit Potter."

Harry's stomach gave a horrible lurch. Slowly and carefully, he raised himself a few inches so he could look at the statue on the bed. A ray of moonlight lay across its staring face.

It was Colin Creevey. His eyes were wide and his hands were stuck up in front of him, holding his camera.

"Petrified?" whispered Madam Pomfrey.

"Yes," said Professor McGonagall. "But I shudder to think … If Albus hadn't been on the way downstairs for hot chocolate - who knows what might have -"

The three of them stared down at Colin. Then Dumbledore leaned forward and wrenched the camera out of Colin's rigid grip.

"You don't think he managed to get a picture of his attacker?" said Professor McGonagall eagerly.

Dumbledore didn't answer. He opened the back of the camera.

"Good gracious!" said Madam Pomfrey.

A jet of steam had hissed out of the camera. Harry, three beds away, caught the acrid smell of burnt plastic.

"Melted," said Madam Pomfrey wonderingly. "All melted … "

"What does this mean, Albus?" Professor McGonagall asked urgently.

"It means," said Dumbledore, "that the Chamber of Secrets is indeed open again."

Madam Pomfrey clapped a hand to her mouth. Professor McGonagall stared at Dumbledore. "But, Albus… surely… who?"

"The question is not who," said Dumbledore, his eyes on Colin. "The question is, how…" And from what Harry could see of Professor McGonagall's shadowy face, she didn't understand this any better than he did.

**AN: Well, new day, new chapter. I've started getting back in the swing of things when it come to writing, so I don't have to stress and panic to get new chapters to you yet. I would like to thank every who has read, followed, favorited, and reviewed this story. For those who reviewed, your words of encouragement and praise are fantastic.**

**Uploaded May 15th, 2020**


	16. 16 - A Sirius Affair

(replaces Chapter 11 of Harry Potter and The Chamber of Secrets)

Harry woke up on Sunday morning to find the dormitory blazing with winter sunlight and his arm reboned but very stiff. He sat up quickly and looked over at Colin's bed, but it had been blocked from view by the high curtains Harry had changed behind yesterday. Seeing that he was awake, Madam Pomfrey came bustling over with a breakfast tray and then began bending and stretching his arm and fingers.

"All in order," she said as he clumsily fed himself porridge left-handed. "When you've finished eating, you may leave."

Harry dressed as quickly as he could and hurried off to Gryffindor Tower, desperate to tell Ron and Hermione about Colin and Dobby, but they weren't there. Harry left to look for them, wondering where they could have got to and feeling slightly hurt that they weren't interested in whether he had his bones back or not.

As Harry passed the library, Percy Weasley strolled out of it, looking in far better spirits than last time they'd met.

"Oh, hello, Harry," he said. "Excellent flying yesterday, really excellent. Gryffindor has just taken the lead for the House Cup - you earned fifty points!"

"You haven't seen Ron or Hermione, have you?" said Harry.

"No, I haven't," said Percy, his smile fading. "I hope Ron's not in another girls' toilet… "

Harry forced a laugh, watched Percy walk out of sight, and then headed straight for Moaning Myrtle's bathroom. He couldn't see why Ron and Hermione would be in there again, but after making sure that neither Filch nor any prefects were around, he opened the door and heard their voices coming from a locked stall.

"It's me," he said, closing the door behind him. There was a clunk, a splash, and a gasp from within the stall and he saw Hermione's eye peering through the keyhole.

"Harry!" she said. "You gave us such a fright - come in. How's your arm?"

"Fine," said Harry, squeezing into the stall. An old cauldron was perched on the toilet, and a crackling from under the rim told Harry they had lit a fire beneath it. Conjuring up portable, waterproof fires was a speciality of Hermione's.

"We'd've come to meet you, but we decided to get started on the Polyjuice Potion," Ron explained as Harry, with difficulty, locked the stall again. "We've decided this is the safest place to hide it."

Harry started to tell them about Colin, but Hermione interrupted.

"We already know - we heard Professor McGonagall telling Professor Flitwick this morning. That's why we decided we'd better get going -"

"The sooner we get a confession out of Malfoy, the better," snarled Ron. "D'you know what I think? He was in such a foul temper after the Quidditch match, he took it out on Colin."

"I keep telling you, it's not Malfoy," Ben's voice stated from the stall next to theirs.

"There's something else," said Harry, watching Hermione tearing bundles of knotgrass and throwing them into the potion and ignoring Ben's interruption. "Dobby came to visit me in the middle of the night."

Ron and Hermione looked up, amazed. Harry told them everything Dobby had told him - or hadn't told him. Hermione and Ron listened with their mouths open. Ben could be heard humming in thought from the other stall.

"This settles it," said Ron in a triumphant voice. "Lucius Malfoy must've opened the Chamber when he was at school here and now he's told dear old Draco how to do it. It's obvious. Wish Dobby'd told you what kind of monster's in there, though. I want to know how come nobody's noticed it sneaking around the school."

"Lucius isn't in his sixties, Ron," Ben said. "It would of have to have been someone before him."

"Alright, maybe his grandfather."

"Maybe it can make itself invisible," said Hermione, prodding leeches to the bottom of the cauldron. "Or maybe it can disguise itself - pretend to be a suit of armor or something - I've read about Chameleon Ghouls -"

"You read too much, Hermione," said Ron, pouring dead lacewings on top of the leeches. He crumpled up the empty lacewing bag and looked at Harry.

"So Dobby stopped us from getting on the train and broke your arm." He shook his head. "You know what, Harry? If he doesn't stop trying to save your life he's going to kill you."

"Oh, that reminds me," Ben said. "I was testing a spell that would allow for us to find certain intruders. If you three could stay in the stall for a moment, I'd like to test it."

Harry, Ron, and Hermione all agreed as Ben tested his spell. Harry felt as though something was swooping low over him, immersing his body in its shadow. Ben was silent for a time as Harry felt the sensation twice more. Ben spoke in a strained tone. "Does somebody have an animal with them? These results currently seem right and wrong … "

"Yeah, I have Scabbers in my pocket," Ron stated, bewildered by Ben's current mood.

Harry himself was confused as Ben inhaled sharply. He heard a stall door unlock as Ben said, "We need to go to Professor McGonagall."

"Why?"

"I think Scabbers might be human," Ben said.

Hermione scoffed. "Don't be daft, there's no way - "

"The spell worked," Ben interrupted. "I got signs that people were in the stall next to me, but I got another signature besides you three's. I tried it three times, just to be sure."

"You could have done the spell wrong," Hermione stated primly.

"Then Professor McGonagall can confirm whether or not I was. Come on."

It didn't take long for the four to find Professor McGonagall. She was in the corridor, apparently heading to her classroom.

"Can I help you?" she asked.

"I was testing a spell that allowed me to detect human presence," Ben started to explain, "and had asked these three to help me. I got a result of four people where we were practicing, and one of the signatures that I got was not of a school aged student and didn't look like a professor. I did get three that looked like Harry, Ron, and Hermione but I always got the fourth one as well. The only other being in the room was Ron's pet rat. Could you check to see if the rat's actually a rat?"

Professor McGonagall's mouth thinned. "Very well. Mr. Weasley, please, produce the rat."

Ron pulled a snoring Scabbers out of his pocket. With a wave of the Professor's wand, Scabbers started glowing a bright red. Professor McGonagall seemed to straighten a little more.

"Hand him over to me, please, Mr. Weasley," McGonagall said. "Mr. Black was indeed right. Take ten points to Ravenclaw for advanced spellwork and another ten for each of you for reporting your findings."

Ron handed over Scabbers as though he was handling a live grenade. Professor McGonagall conjuered an unbreakable cage before sending them away, saying that she'd summon Madame Bones. As Ben left, he said to Harry, "Well, that's an adventure we won't have to deal with."

* * *

The news that Colin Creevey had been attacked and was now lying as though dead in the hospital wing had spread through the entire school by Monday morning. The air was suddenly thick with rumor and suspicion. The first years were now moving around the castle in tight-knit groups, as though scared they would be attacked if they ventured forth alone.

Ginny Weasley, who sat next to Colin Creevey in Charms, was distraught, but Harry felt that Fred and George were going the wrong way about cheering her up. They were taking turns covering themselves with fur or boils and jumping out at her from behind statues. They only stopped when Percy, apoplectic with rage, told them he was going to write to Mrs. Weasley and tell her Ginny was having nightmares.

On Tuesday, the school found out that Peter Pettigrew was hiding as an animagus and was the betrayer of the Potters. Harry was shocked to discover that his godfather, Sirius Black, was thrown into prison without a trial. Both Ben and Malfoy were shocked as well, though for entirely different reasons. Harry overheard Malfoy talking about how the Lordship of the House of Black was now definitely going to Ben. Ben himself was more concerned with the fact that his uncle was innocent. After getting over his shock, he raged about the injustice of a system that judged people before they were tried.

Meanwhile, hidden from the teachers, a roaring trade in talismans, amulets, and other protective devices was sweeping the school. Neville Longbottom bought a large, evil-smelling green onion, a pointed purple crystal, and a rotting newt tail before the other Gryffindor boys pointed out that he was in no danger; he was a pure-blood, and therefore unlikely to be attacked.

"They went for Filch first," Neville said, his round face fearful. "And everyone knows I'm almost a Squib."

_(skipping Potions, only thing of note is Ben and Daphne are staying the holidays)_

A week later, Harry, Ron, and Hermione were walking across the entrance hall when they saw a small knot of people gathered around the notice board, reading a piece of parchment that had just been pinned up. Seamus Finnigan and Dean Thomas beckoned them over, looking excited.

"They're starting a Dueling Club!" said Seamus. "First meeting tonight! I wouldn't mind dueling lessons; they might come in handy one of these days … "

"What, you reckon Slytherin's monster can duel?" said Ron, but he, too, read the sign with interest.

"Could be useful," he said to Harry and Hermione as they went into dinner. "Shall we go?"

* * *

Harry and Hermione were all for it, so at eight o'clock that evening they hurried back to the Great Hall. The long dining tables had vanished and a golden stage had appeared along one wall, lit by thousands of candles floating overhead. The ceiling was velvety black once more and most of the school seemed to be packed beneath it, all carrying their wands and looking excited.

"I wonder who'll be teaching us?" said Hermione as they edged into the chattering crowd. "Someone told me Flitwick was a dueling champion when he was young - maybe it'll be him."

"As long as it's not -" Harry began, but he ended on a groan: Gilderoy Lockhart was walking onto the stage, resplendent in robes of deep plum and accompanied by none other than Snape, wearing his usual black. Ben, who was nearby with Daphne, reached over to pat him on the back in solidarity.

Lockhart waved an arm for silence and called "Gather round, gather round! Can everyone see me? Can you all hear me? Excellent!

"Now, Professor Dumbledore has granted me permission to start this little dueling club, to train you all in case you ever need to defend yourselves as I myself have done on countless occasions - for full details, see my published works.

"Let me introduce my assistant, Professor Snape," said Lockhart, flashing a wide smile. "He tells me he knows a tiny little bit about dueling himself and has sportingly agreed to help me with a short demonstration before we begin. Now, I don't want any of you youngsters to worry - you'll still have your Potions master when I'm through with him, never fear!"

"Wouldn't it be good if they finished each other off?" Ron muttered in Harry's ear.

Snape's upper lip was curling. Harry wondered why Lockhart was still smiling; if Snape had been looking at him like that he'd have been running as fast as he could in the opposite direction.

Lockhart and Snape turned to face each other and bowed; at least, Lockhart did, with much twirling of his hands, whereas Snape jerked his head irritably. Then they raised their wands like swords in front of them.

"As you see, we are holding our wands in the accepted combative position," Lockhart told the silent crowd. "On the count of three, we will cast our first spells. Neither of us will be aiming to kill, of course."

"I wouldn't bet on that," Harry murmured, watching Snape baring his teeth. "One - two - three -"

Both of them swung their wands above their heads and pointed them at their opponent; Snape cried: "_Expelliarmus_!" There was a dazzling flash of scarlet light and Lockhart was blasted off his feet: He flew backward off the stage, smashed into the wall, and slid down it to sprawl on the floor.

Malfoy and some of the other Slytherins cheered or applauded, in the case of Daphne and her friend. Ben himself was applauding. Hermione was dancing on tiptoes. "Do you think he's all right?" she squealed through her fingers.

"Who cares?" said Harry and Ron together. Ben started snickering, apparently having heard them.

Lockhart was getting unsteadily to his feet. His hat had fallen off and his wavy hair was standing on end.

"Well, there you have it!" he said, tottering back onto the platform. "That was a Disarming Charm - as you see, I've lost my wand - ah, thank you, Miss Brown - yes, an excellent idea to show them that, Professor Snape, but if you don't mind my saying so, it was very obvious what you were about to do. If I had wanted to stop you it would have been only too easy - however, I felt it would be instructive to let them see … "

Snape was looking murderous. Possibly Lockhart had noticed, because he said, "Enough demonstrating! I'm going to come amongst you now and put you all into pairs. Professor Snape, if you'd like to help me -"

They moved through the crowd, matching up partners. Lockhart teamed Neville with Justin Finch-Fletchley, but Snape reached Harry and Ron first.

"Time to split up the dream team, I think," he sneered. "Weasley, you can partner Finnigan. Potter -"

Harry moved automatically toward Hermione.

"I don't think so," said Snape, smiling coldly. "Mr. Malfoy, come over here. Let's see what you make of the famous Potter. And you, Miss Granger - you can partner Miss Bulstrode."

Malfoy strutted over, smirking. Behind him walked a Slytherin girl who reminded Harry of a picture he'd seen in Holidays with Hags. She was large and square and her heavy jaw jutted aggressively. Hermione gave her a weak smile that she did not return.

"Face your partners!" called Lockhart, back on the platform. "And bow!"

Harry and Malfoy barely inclined their heads, not taking their eyes off each other.

"Wands at the ready!" shouted Lockhart. "When I count to three, cast your charms to disarm your opponents - only to disarm them - we don't want any accidents - one … two … three -" Harry swung his wand high, but Malfoy had already started on "two": His spell hit Harry so hard he felt as though he'd been hit over the head with a saucepan. He stumbled, but everything still seemed to be working, and wasting no more time, Harry pointed his wand straight at Malfoy and shouted, "_Rictusempra_!"

A jet of silver light hit Malfoy in the stomach and he doubled up, wheezing.

"I said disarm only!" Lockhart shouted in alarm over the heads of the battling crowd, as Malfoy sank to his knees; Harry had hit him with a Tickling Charm, and he could barely move for laughing. Harry hung back, with a vague feeling it would be unsporting to bewitch Malfoy while he was on the floor, but this was a mistake; gasping for breath, Malfoy pointed his wand at Harry's knees, choked, "_Tarantallegra_!" and the next second Harry's legs began to jerk around out of his control in a kind of quickstep.

"Stop! Stop!" screamed Lockhart, but Snape took charge. "_Finite Incantatem_!" he shouted; Harry's feet stopped dancing, Malfoy stopped laughing, and they were able to look up.

A haze of greenish smoke was hovering over the scene. Both Neville and Justin were lying on the floor, panting; Ban and Daphne were standing over their opponents, two wands in hand; Seamus was holding up an ashen-faced Ron, apologizing for whatever his spell had done; but Hermione and Millicent Bulstrode were still moving; Millicent had Hermione in a headlock and Hermione was whimpering in pain; both their wands lay forgotten on the floor. Harry leapt forward and pulled Millicent off. It was difficult: She was a lot bigger than he was.

"Dear, dear," said Lockhart, skittering through the crowd, looking at the aftermath of the duels. "Up you go, Macmillan … "

"Careful there, Miss Fawcett … Pinch it hard, it'll stop bleeding in a second,"

"I think I'd better teach you how to block unfriendly spells," said Lockhart, standing flustered in the midst of the hall. He glanced at Snape, whose black eyes glinted, and looked quickly away. "Let's have a volunteer pair - Longbottom and Finch-Fletchley, how about you -"

"A bad idea, Professor Lockhart," said Snape, gliding over like a large and malevolent bat. "Longbottom causes devastation with the simplest spells. We'll be sending what's left of Finch- Fletchley up to the hospital wing in a matchbox." Neville's round, pink face went pinker. "How about Malfoy and Potter?" said Snape with a twisted smile.

"Excellent idea!" said Lockhart, gesturing Harry and Malfoy into the middle of the hall as the crowd backed away to give them room.

"Now, Harry," said Lockhart. "When Draco points his wand at you, you do this."

He raised his own wand, attempted a complicated sort of wiggling action, and dropped it. Snape smirked as Lockhart quickly picked it up, saying, "Whoops - my wand is a little overexcited - "

Snape moved closer to Malfoy, bent down, and whispered something in his ear. Malfoy smirked, too. Harry looked up nervously at Lockhart and said, "Professor, could you show me that blocking thing again?"

"Scared?" muttered Malfoy, so that Lockhart couldn't hear him.

"You wish," said Harry out of the corner of his mouth.

Lockhart cuffed Harry merrily on the shoulder. "Just do what I did, Harry!"

"What, drop my wand?"

But Lockhart wasn't listening.

"Three - two - one - go!" he shouted.

Malfoy raised his wand quickly and bellowed, "_Serpensortia_!"

The end of his wand exploded. Harry watched, aghast, as a long black snake shot out of it, fell heavily onto the floor between them, and raised itself, ready to strike. There were screams as the crowd backed swiftly away, clearing the floor. A sharp smack rang out among the crowd. Confused, everyone turned towards the origin of the sound. Ben was there, palm resting against his forehead, an annoyed frown on his face.

"Harry," Ben said in a long suffering tone. "Just … just reveal your gift."

Harry was confused for a second before he realized what he meant. "But, I thought you said -"

"Yes, I remember," Ben said, glaring at Snape and Malfoy in annoyance. "But I see no solution out of this that doesn't involve deadly injury or its revelation."

Harry thought about it for a moment before conceding that Ben had a point. Trying not to think of how people would react, he called to the snake, saying "_come over here and don't bite anyone._" He heard himself hiss, clearly not speaking English. The snake slithered over, coiling at Harry's feet. The rest of the students gasped.

"Now then," Ben stated, returning the attention of the students to him. "I looked into the Potter family briefly and found no connection to the family that stated that they were descendents of Slytherin, meaning the only way that he'd be related to Slytherin would be through his Muggle-born mother's side of the family. Speaking of, Harry what's your view on Muggle-borns?"

"Er - I don't think they're any different than any other wizard," he said, not expecting to be put in the limelight.

"And Muggles?"

"Most are alright. Your stepfather Charles seems like an okay person."

Ben's face twitched slightly before nodding. Many people who had seemed to be previously believing the worst of Harry were now looking like they didn't know what to think or were agreeing with Ben, although he didn't like the way some of the room was looking at him. Snape stepped forward, waved his wand, and the snake vanished in a small puff of black smoke. Snape, too, was looking at Harry in an unexpected way: It was a shrewd and calculating look, and Harry didn't like it.

Lockhart blustered a bit before letting the dueling club go.

* * *

The next morning, the snow that had begun in the night had turned into a blizzard so thick that the last Herbology lesson of the term was canceled: Professor Sprout wanted to fit socks and scarves on the Mandrakes, a tricky operation she would entrust to no one else, now that it was so important for the Mandrakes to grow quickly and revive Mrs. Norris and Colin Creevey.

Harry was currently walking towards the library to meet up with Ben to discuss some of the things he revealed. Ron and Hermione had both lightly grilled Harry about his Parseltongue but had backed off when he explained that he didn't know about it until Ben had mentioned it earlier this semester.

Harry had walked past classrooms where lessons were taking place, catching snatches of what was happening within. Professor McGonagall had been shouting at someone who, by the sound of it, had turned his friend into a badger. Harry had peaked his head in and was still laughing at the look on the face of the student and the expression that the badger had when he entered the library.

A group of the Hufflepuffs who should have been in Herbology were sitting at the back of the library with Ben, but they didn't seem to be working. Between the long lines of high bookshelves, Harry could see that their heads were close together and they were having what looked like an absorbing conversation. He was walking toward them when something of what they were saying met his ears, and he paused to listen, hidden in the Invisibility section.

"I don't care what you say," a stout boy said. "He's clearly the one doing this. I mean, you saw what he did with that snake. He -"

"- got it to back off, Ernie." Ben interrupted, sternly. "I still don't understand your viewpoint. You've seen Harry. You know that I'm his friend and that I have a better understanding of him than you, and yet you think you know better than me."

"So, you don't think he did it, then?" said a girl with blonde pigtails anxiously.

"Hannah," Ben said patiently. "I was with Harry the entire time on Halloween. I know he didn't release anything then because the only time I was in a different area than him was during classes. And no, Ernie -" he interrupted the stout boy as he opened his mouth "- I'm not just covering for him. I'd say the same thing under truth spells and potions."

"But," Ernie protested, "he's a Parselmouth. Everyone knows that's the mark of a Dark wizard. Have you ever heard of a decent one who could talk to snakes? They called Slytherin himself Serpent-tongue."

Ben snorted. "So then, by Morgana, Merlin's evil. We must tell the rest of the world this! They've been celebrating a villian!"

His over-the-top delivery caused much giggling among the Hufflepuffs, although Ernie flushed bright red.

"But," Ernie protested, "you remember what was written on the wall? Enemies of the Heir, Beware. Potter had some sort of run-in with Filch. Next thing we know, Filch's cat's attacked. That first year, Creevey, was annoying Potter at the Quidditch match, taking pictures of him while he was lying in the mud. Next thing we know - Creevey's been attacked."

"He always seems so nice, though," said Hannah uncertainly, "and, well, he's the one who made You-Know-Who disappear. He can't be all bad, can he?"

"Of course not," Ben stated. "I will reiterate, I was with Harry for most of the day on Halloween. He couldn't have done it then. As for Colin, he _was_ sneaking down to the Hospital Wing late at night after Harry had his arm de-boned by Lockhart. So, from what I've read about Skele-gro, first he'd be in immense pain if he wasn't asleep and second, if he was that type of person, I think he'd have gone after Lockhart, who de-boned him!"

Harry couldn't take anymore. Clearing his throat loudly, he stepped out from behind the bookshelves. Harry barely restrained himself from laughing at sight that greeted him: Every one of the Hufflepuffs looked as though they had been Petrified by the sight of him, and the color was draining out of Ernie's face.

"Hello," said Harry. "We're still on for that study session, Ben?"

Ben smiled in an amused fashion. "Yeah, sure, grab a seat."

As Harry went to sit at an open spot, Ernie hissed to Ben. "What are you doing?! You know that dark wizard killed You-Know-Who when he was a baby. He should have been blasted into smithereens. Only a really powerful Dark wizard could have survived a curse like that."

Ben snorted again. "You mean whatever his mother did? Because that's the only way a baby could defeat a Dark wizard. Unless the Dark wizard is a complete and utter moron who bungles every spell."

"That's true," Harry said from his newly taken seat. "All I remember is a bunch of green light. I can't remember doing anything."

"Doesn't matter," Ernie said dismissively. "You're clearly evil. And in case you're getting ideas," he added hastily, "I might tell you that you can trace my family back through nine generations of witches and warlocks and my blood's as pure as anyone's, so -"

"- I don't care what sort of blood you've got!" said Harry fiercely. "Why would I want to attack Muggle-borns?"

"His mother and one of his best friends are Muggle-borns after all," Ben stated.

"I've heard you hate those Muggles you live with," said Ernie swiftly.

"It's not possible to live with the Dursleys and not hate them," said Harry. "I'd like to see you try it."

"Can we get back to work, please? Before we're kicked out," a girl with plaited red hair begged.

"Of course, Susan." Ben replied, leading them back to the realm of academia.

Relative silence overcame the group, although one or two glares and glances were directed at Harry as he sat there.

It was a few minutes later that Harry heard Peeves cry, "ATTACK! ATTACK! ANOTHER ATTACK! NO MORTAL OR GHOST IS SAFE! RUN FOR YOUR LIVES! ATTAAAACK!"

The entire group ran out of the library at top speed. Harry heard doors crashing open as a stream of students made their way to where Peeves was. As he made it to the spot, Harry's stomach felt like it had dissolved.

Justin Finch-Fletchley was lying on the floor, rigid and cold, a look of shock frozen on his face, his eyes staring blankly at the ceiling. And that wasn't all. Next to him was another figure, the strangest sight Harry had ever seen.

It was Nearly Headless Nick, no longer pearly-white and transparent, but black and smoky, floating immobile and horizontal, six inches off the floor. His head was half off and his face wore an expression of shock identical to Justin's.

"You did this!" Ernie yelled, his face stark white, pointing his finger dramatically at Harry.

Ben smacked him on the back of the head, leveling a glare reminiscent of Professor McGonagall's. "He was with us in the library when Peeves yelled, where's your proof?"

"That will do, Macmillan, Black!" said Professor McGonagall sharply.

Justin was carried up to the hospital wing by Professor Flitwick and Professor Sinistra of the Astronomy department, but nobody seemed to know what to do for Nearly Headless Nick. In the end, Professor McGonagall conjured a large fan out of thin air, which she gave to Ernie with instructions to waft Nearly Headless Nick up the stairs. This Ernie did, fanning Nick along like a silent black hovercraft.

"Get back to class, all of you!" Professor McGonagall barked at the students. Everyone, Harry included, scrambled away.

**AN: Not really much to say. Hope you enjoyed.**

**Uploaded May 29th, 2020**


	17. 17 - Christmas Conversations

(replaces part of Chapter 12 of Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets)

The double attack on Justin and Nearly Headless Nick turned what had hitherto been nervousness into real panic. Curiously, it was Nearly Headless Nick's fate that seemed to worry people most. What could possibly do that to a ghost? people asked each other; what terrible power could harm someone who was already dead? There was almost a stampede to book seats on the Hogwarts Express so that students could go home for Christmas.

"At this rate, we'll be the only ones left," Ron told Harry and Hermione. "Us, Ben, Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle. What a jolly holiday it's going to be."

Crabbe and Goyle, who always did whatever Malfoy did, had signed up to stay over the holidays, too. But Harry was glad that most people were leaving. He was tired of some people skirting around him in the corridors, as though he was about to sprout fangs or spit poison; tired of all the muttering, pointing, and hissing as he passed.

Fred and George, however, found all this very funny. They went out of their way to march ahead of Harry down the corridors, shouting, "Make way for the Heir of Slytherin, seriously evil wizard coming through..."

Ben was rather amused by and grateful for their behaviour.

"At least that proves they don't believe you're the heir," he stated to Harry.

Percy was deeply disapproving of the twins' behavior.

"It is not a laughing matter," he said coldly.

"Oh, get out of the way, Percy," said Fred. "Harry's in a hurry."

"Yeah, he's off to the Chamber of Secrets for a cup of tea with his fanged servant," said George, chortling.

Ginny didn't find it amusing either.

"Oh, don't," she wailed every time Fred asked Harry loudly who he was planning to attack next, or when George pretended to ward Harry off with a large clove of garlic when they met.

Harry didn't mind; it made him feel better that Fred and George, at least, thought the idea of his being Slytherin's heir was quite ludicrous. But their antics seemed to be aggravating Draco Malfoy, who looked increasingly sour each time he saw them at it.

"It's because he's bursting to say it's really him," said Ron knowingly. "You know how he hates anyone beating him at anything, and you're getting all the credit for his dirty work."

"Not for long," said Hermione in a satisfied tone. "The Polyjuice Potion's nearly ready. We'll be getting the truth out of him any day now."

* * *

On the Saturday before Christmas, Harry was approached by Professor McGonagall after breakfast. "Mr. Potter, please come to my office after lunch today. Mr. Black will be joining us."

"What d'you 'reckon that's about, mate?" Ron asked as soon as Professor McGonagall had left.

Harry thought for a moment before replying. "Probably to see Sirius Black. He's my godfather and Ben's uncle. He was asking about us when he got out, according to Professor Dumbledore."

"Well, that's obvious," Hermione said in a bossy tone. "Clearly, he'd want to know about his godson and nephew who he hasn't met."

"Right," Ron said, in a tone of comprehension.

The trio processed to head towards the library to see if they could find Ben. Although he had practically lived in the library during their first year, he was starting to spend more of his free time in abandoned classrooms or, if the weather was alright, outside. Harry once found Ben practicing the disarming charm on one occasion, muttering to himself as he was. Harry disrupted his concentration, causing him to miss his target, to hilarious results. There was still an ink splotch on that tie, right in the center.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione spent the time until lunch playing games in the common room. After he was finished with his lunch, Harry noticed Professor McGonagall coming towards him, as Ben rose from his seat.

"Come, Mr. Potter, we'll be heading to the Headmaster's office. Mr. Black - oh, your ready to, good."

As he got up, Harry waved goodbye to Ron and Hermione, who waved back. Professor McGonagall, Ben, and Harry marched in silence through the castle and she stopped before a large and extremely ugly stone gargoyle.

"Sherbert lemons!" she said. This was evidently a password, because the gargoyle sprang suddenly to life and hopped aside as the wall behind him split in two. Even if he would have been full of dread, Harry couldn't fail to be amazed. Behind the wall was a spiral staircase that was moving smoothly upward, like an escalator. As he and Professor McGonagall stepped onto it, Harry heard the wall thud closed behind them. They rose upward in circles, higher and higher, until at last, slightly dizzy, Harry saw a gleaming oak door ahead, with a brass knocker in the shape of a griffin.

They stepped off the stone staircase at the top, and Professor McGonagall rapped on the door. "Enter," a voice said from behind the door. The three entered and Harry saw that Professor Dumbledore was seated at his desk, smiling at them.

Harry looked around. It was a large and beautiful circular room, full of funny little noises. A number of curious silver instruments stood on spindle legged tables, whirring and emitting little puffs of smoke. The walls were covered with portraits of old headmasters and headmistresses, all of whom were snoozing gently in their frames. There was also an enormous, claw-footed desk, and, sitting on a shelf behind it, a shabby, tattered wizard's hat — the Sorting Hat. There was also a beautiful, ornate perch, currently with a baby bird on it the likes of which Harry had never seen before.

"Ah, excellent, thank you, Minerva," Dumbledore said.

Professor McGonagall nodded before leaving. Dumbledore turned to the pair, and smiled, noticing Harry staring at the bird. "I see you've noticed Fawkes."

"What is he?" Harry asked, seeing Ben staring at the bird as well.

"Fawkes is a phoenix, Harry - " Dumbledore was interrupted by Ben snorting and muttering "good name" " - thank you - now as I was saying, phoenixes burst into flame when it is time for them to die and are reborn from the ashes. They can carry immensely heavy loads, their tears have healing powers, and they make highly faithful pets."

"He's just been reborn, hasn't he?" Ben stated shrewdly.

"Quite so," Dumbledore replied. "Now then, as much as I'd enjoy our conversation, I think that you'd rather be spending time getting to know Sirius."

As the pair nodded, Dumbledore got up from his desk, moved to the fireplace, and threw some Floo powder in. Dumbledore turned to them as he stepped away from the fireplace. "Sirius is staying at St. Mungo's."

Ben was first to go through, hesitantly and with glasses in pocket as he clearly called out "St. Mungo's!" Harry was next, also without his glasses on his head. The sensation was the same as his first time, but he only stumbled this time. He and Ben waited for a moment before Dumbledore stepped through gracefully.

As Dumbledore led them to the front desk, Harry stared at the plethora of interesting injuries and maladies that plagued the waiting room. One that caught his eye was a man who appeared to be half transformed into a tiger sitting on a chair, reading the _Daily Prophet_. Another was an older woman who was dancing for no discernable reason, and seemed quite exhausted.

When they finally reached the front of the line, the witch behind the desk glanced at them, then straightened up when she realized precisely who was in front of her.

"Good afternoon, we were wondering where Sirius Black is currently residing as he stays here."

"First floor, in ward forty-two, the isolated ward."

Dumbledore smiled. "Thank you. Come along, boys."

As they passed it, Harry read the floor guide:

(AN: not really important at the moment, look it up if you don't remember)

They walked in silence as they made their way there. Harry was wondering what time of person Sirius would be. _Hopefully he'll like me_, Harry thought. He noticed Ben seemed to be thinking along the same lines, if the nervous expression on his face was any indication.

On reaching the first floor, the trio watched down the hall to the fifth door on the left, bearing the words "Paranoid" Marvin Allen Ward: Isolation. Ben snorted upon seeing this and asked, "What's this Marvin Allen famous for?"

"A most ingenious spell that counters excessive emotions," Dumbledore replied, smiling. "The Apathy Charm."

"And I imagine that, aside from being paranoid, he was a rather dour chap?"

Dumbledore was taken aback before replying. "Yes. However did you know that?"

Ben smiled in reply. "A muggle author."

With that he walked into the room with a confused Dumbledore and nervous Harry following him. Inside were two men. The one on the bed, presumably Mr. Black, had black hair that hung down to his shoulder, his grey eyes sunken in their sockets. His skin was slightly waxy and there was a slightly manic light in his gaze, even as he smiled brightly at his current company. The other man was in extremely shabby robes that were darned in several places. His hair was a light brown with flecks of grey within.

When the door opened, both men turned towards it with curious glances. The looks were immediately changed to surprised and happy ones once they seemed to recognize Harry. Mr. Black beamed at them, even if he looked mildly confused by Ben.

"Harry!" Mr. Black exclaimed, "Merlin, you've grown. Come here, come here."

Harry walked over to the bedside, Ben trailing after him. Harry was pulled into a hug. Mr. Black was crying lightly into his shoulder as Harry's eyes were getting a bit misty too. "It's good to see you," he repeated over and over again as Harry patted him on the back. Harry noticed Dumbledore smile before heading out.

About a minute later, Mr. Black seemed to have recovered himself. He sniffed and cleared his throat before speaking to Ben. "I'm sorry, but who are you?"

Ben smiled sadly. "I'm Benjamin Black, though you can call me, Ben … Mr. Black. I'm Regulus's son."

"Reggie?" Mr. Black said hoarsely, before clearing his throat again. "None of that Mr. Black stuff, makes me sound old."

Ben smiled, a relieved look briefly flashing across his face, "Okay, Uncle Sirius."

At this juncture the other man politely coughed, amusement written across his face. Sirius started. "Sorry, Moony, got sidetracked. Ben, Harry, this is Remus Lupin, a good friend of mine and your father's, Harry."

"Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Lupin," Harry said, holding out his hand for him to shake.

"Call me Remus," he replied, shaking Harry's hand. "We've met before, although you wouldn't remember."

Harry had an unpleasant thought, anger rising as he had to ask it, "Where were you, when I was growing up?"

Remus winced. "I have a … condition that prevented me from looking after you. The Ministry tightened its regulations on foster-parenting shortly after your parents died. Added onto that, I wasn't in a good place mentally immediately after their deaths."

Harry thought that was understandable. He smiled at Remus, patting him on his hands, causing him to look at Harry with relief and gratitude.

"Well, now that that's out of the way, tell us about your lifes," Sirius said.

Harry and Ben looked at each other, for a moment, before Ben started. He explained what his life was like living with the Williams before he went to Hogwarts. Harry, Sirius, and Remus were listening with rapt attention as Ben described living in a mix household.

"I'm not sure I like this Charles," Sirius growled as Ben described another incident which ended with Charles yelling at him.

"He wasn't so bad when I met him," Harry said.

"He's not," Ben said, slightly defensive and evasive in tone, "it's just that, well, he and I are fundamentally different people with very different ideals and perspectives that don't align most of the time. He also never put his full effort into getting to know me on a personal level, but he's fundamentally a good man, just … not someone I particularly get along with. He's pushing me in a similar way to the way he was pushed as a child, if what he's describe what his father was like is any indication."

As Sirius and Harry pondered this, Remus nodded along. "Makes sense, when you think about it. The greatest example that anyone would see of parenting is of their own guardians."

As Harry started to look panicky and horrified, Ben jumped in to reassure him. "That can be an example of what _not _to do, provided you go about it _with an eye on it_. Something that Charles _doesn't_ do."

After Ben finished his time before Hogwarts, it was Harry's turn. He tried to skim over most of his experiences so as to not upset or worry anyone, but he didn't seem to be successful. Sirius and Remus would question specific points in ways that made Harry feel incredibly uncomfortable, although the pair would always reassure him that he wasn't at fault. Ben tried his best to be an emotional support to Harry, but even he seemed appalled by what was and wasn't being said. When he got to Hagrid showing up, Sirius stopped him for a moment.

"When I get out of here, you're _never_ going back there. You understand that, Harry?"

Harry nodded, throat constricted by emotions, trying not to cry. Ben patted him on the back, a comforting smile on his face. Sirius shifted his focus to Ben. "You're welcome to come as well, Ben. Moony, you're coming, no excuses."

Remus had briefly opened his mouth to protest, but on seeing the look on Sirius's face, he relented. After that, Harry continued with his Hogwarts experience, with Ben chiming in every so often with a very small prank or a bit of information he found. When he got to the Troll, Sirius and Remus went white.

"You faced a _troll_!" Sirius yelled. "Where were the _teachers_?!"

"Looking in the wrong direction for the troll," Harry said, trying to calm Sirius down. "They came as soon as they could, Professor McGonagall leading the charge."

"Where were you, Ben, during this entire thing?" Remus asked quickly, heading off Sirius's angry retort.

"_I_ was in Ravenclaw tower, trying not to go into Panic Mode. I didn't want to dissolve into a crying mess in front of everybody. I only found out about what happened the next day and, let me tell you, I was furious. Concerned, of course, but also furious. Daphne swears she could've heard me from her common room as I yelled at them."

Harry frowned. "Daphne wasn't there."

"She was a few rooms away. The fact that she heard me should tell you how loud I was."

"So, who's this Daphne you keep mentioning? And where did you meet her?" Sirius asked, a sly grin on his face.

Ben smiled fondly, not immediately noticing Sirius's smile. "Daphne Greengrass. A Slytherin in our year from a pureblood family that is traditional, but not prejudiced. I met her just about a week before Halloween in the library. I had just finished an essay and was wandering the shelves looking for a topic to catch my interest, when I spotted her sitting alone, struggling with what turned out to be the essay I just completed. I went over and very politely offered my assistance. She accepted and I helped her finish her essay. Afterwards, we talked over various topics and found we had a lot of common interests. When we realised it was close to curfew, we decided to meet again later to talk further about these topics. The rest is history." He finally noticed the look on Sirius's face. "We're not like that, I'm not interested in girls in _that_ way yet."

"_Yet_," Sirius repeated, sly smile never leaving his face.

Ben sighed before motioning for Harry to keep talking, much to his and Remus's amusement. Harry finished the tale of his first year and the summer after without many major interruption after the reveal of the maze to the Philosopher's Stone, in which both Sirius and Remus cursed up a storm. When he got to Lockhart's first class, however, both Sirius and Remus were, at first appalled, then burst out laughing at Ben and Harry's unintentional prank. As Harry started wrapping up his tale, Dumbledore returned.

"I'm afraid it's time for the boys to go, Sirius."

Sirius jumped a bit and looked outside. "Is it that late already? Damn. We'll have to continue this again, there's so much I want to tell you, particularly you, Ben, isn't that right, Moony?"

Remus smiled as he rolled his eyes. "He seems to be getting along fine without our help, Padfoot."

Ben shook his head fondly as he rose. "It was nice meeting both of you. We'll have to continue this some other time."

"Yeah," Harry said.

With their goodbyes said, Dumbledore led Harry and Ben to the fireplace. "Did you boys have a good time?"

"Yeah."

"Definitely."

**AN: Whew. So, new chapter. I actually just finished writing this. This chapter includes some of the things that reviewers have pointed out that I didn't include. Part of that was that I could visualize it going differently or I couldn't figure out a way to do it that Harry would see and still have certain believable interactions. I'm actually toying with the idea of making a side bit to this piece that would view certain events from other perspectives, such as the Troll or the Stone, but that'd be after I get much further in this piece if I do it. Oh, and yes, I did make that reference, the last name being the first name of the man who played a role in both worlds. May he rest in peace.**

**Uploaded June 12th, 2020**


	18. 18 - Another Attack!

(replaces part of chapter 14 of Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets)

Harry, Ron, and Hermione had always known that Hagrid had an unfortunate liking for large and monstrous creatures. During their first year at Hogwarts he had tried to raise a dragon in his little wooden house, and it would be a long time before they forgot the giant, three-headed dog he'd christened "Fluffy." And if, as a boy, Hagrid had heard that a monster was hidden somewhere in the castle, Harry was sure he'd have gone to any lengths for a glimpse of it. He'd probably thought it was a shame that the monster had been cooped up so long, and thought it deserved the chance to stretch its many legs; Harry could just imagine the thirteen-year-old Hagrid trying to fit a leash and collar on it. But he was equally certain that Hagrid would never have meant to kill anybody.

Harry half wished he hadn't found out how to work Riddle's diary. Again and again Ron and Hermione made him recount what he'd seen, until he was heartily sick of telling them and sick of the long, circular conversations that followed.

"Riddle might have got the wrong person," said Hermione. "Maybe it was some other monster that was attacking people..."

"How many monsters d'you think this place can hold?" Ron asked dully.

"We always knew Hagrid had been expelled," said Harry miserably. "And the attacks must've stopped after Hagrid was kicked out. Otherwise, Riddle wouldn't have got his award."

Ron tried a different tack.

"Riddle does sound like Percy - who asked him to squeal on Hagrid, anyway?"

"But the monster had killed someone, Ron," said Hermione.

"And Riddle was going to go back to some Muggle orphanage if they closed Hogwarts," said Harry. "I don't blame him for wanting to stay here..."

"You met Hagrid down Knockturn Alley, didn't you, Harry?"

"He was buying a Flesh-Eating Slug Repellent," said Harry quickly.

The three of them fell silent. After a long pause, Hermione voiced the knottiest question of all in a hesitant voice.

"Do you think we should go and ask Hagrid about it all?"

"That'd be a cheerful visit," said Ron. "'Hello, Hagrid. Tell us, have you been setting anything mad and hairy loose in the castle lately?'"

In the end, they decided that they would not say anything to Hagrid unless there was another attack, and as more and more days went by with no whisper from the disembodied voice, they became hopeful that they would never need to talk to him about why he had been expelled. It was now nearly four months since Justin and Nearly Headless Nick had been Petrified, and nearly everybody seemed to think that the attacker, whoever it was, had retired for good. Ernie Macmillan asked Harry quite politely to pass a bucket of leaping toadstools in Herbology one day, and in March several of the Mandrakes threw a loud and raucous party in greenhouse three. This made Professor Sprout very happy.

"The moment they start trying to move into each other's pots, we'll know they're fully mature," she told Harry. "Then we'll be able to revive those poor people in the hospital wing."

"I seriously don't understand why it took you this long to tell me about the diary," Ben stated. Harry, Ron, and Hermione were with Ben and Daphne in an abandoned classroom, working on deciding what classes to take next year the Saturday before Gryffindor's next Quidditch match. Wood had been insisting on team practices every night after dinner, so that Harry barely had time for anything but Quidditch and homework.

"Considering you've been saying nothing but 'I told you so' since January, I think you could understand our reluctance," Ron said.

"I've not been," Ben returned hotly. "Although _we_ did tell you so, I've only brought it up once or twice in January and then I was done. Honestly, you're exaggerating, Ron."

Ron grumbled a little while Ben looked at the full name of Tom.

"Is something bothering you?" Daphne asked him.

"Something feels sinister about the name," Ben responded, not taking his eyes off the paper. "Tom Marvolo Rid … dle."

Harry looked up to notice Ben absolutely stunned by something. Daphne, Ron, and Hermione seemed to notice it, too. "What is - "

"Shush."

Ben started writing, muttering to himself. As he did, Harry grew more and more uncomfortable. When he finished, Ben, now pale-faced, placed the piece of paper in front of all of them and simply said one word. "Read."

Below the name Tom Marvolo Riddle, whose letters were crossed out, was one simple phrase: I am Lord Voldemort. Harry tore his wide eyes away from the page to see his shock and fear mirror on every other face at the table.

"He used an acronym for his moniker," Daphne stated. "That's actually rather clever."

"I think that, through that diary, he's the reason for the monster's release. Is it in a safe location?"

"Yes," Harry said. "It's in my trunk. I'll give it to Dumbledore after Quidditch practice."

Ben nodded. "Good. Now back to scheduling, I don't think you should join Divination unless you've got the gift of foresight or you're good at thinking non-logically, from what I've researched and heard."

Hermione seemed to swell slightly. "And who told you that?"

"Professor Trelawny, the teacher. She said her class isn't focused on books and is difficult for those without the gift."

"I'm signing up," Ron said, enthusiastic about the prospect of not needing books.

Ben shook his head in response. "Personally, I'm taking Ancient Runes, Arithmancy, and Care of Magical Creatures. All of those have practical applications beyond Hogwarts and sound interesting. Enchantment, curse-breaking, spell-invention, wandlore, and more are rooted in those areas. Muggle Studies I already know and probably know better than the instructor, who isn't muggleborn and I've already said my piece for Divination, although studying the past predictions and how they impacted their future would be rather interesting."

Harry personally found what Ben said convincing so he, like Daphne, signed up for those classes as well. Besides that, if he was bad at them, then at least he had people in class that'd be able to help him. Ron decided to take Divination and Care of Magical Creatures. Hermione signed up for them all, with much head-shaking from Ben and Daphne.

* * *

After Quidditch practice, Harry went up to his dormitory to drop off his broomstick feeling Gryffindor's chances for the Quidditch cup had never been better. He was going to grab the diary, give it to Dumbledore, and the crisis would be over, too.

But his cheerful mood didn't last long. At the top of the stairs to the dormitory, he met Neville Longbottom, who was looking frantic.

"Harry - I don't know who did it - I just found -"

Watching Harry fearfully, Neville pushed open the door.

The contents of Harry's trunk had been thrown everywhere. His cloak lay ripped on the floor.

The bedclothes had been pulled off his four-poster and the drawer had been pulled out of his bedside cabinet, the contents strewn over the mattress.

Harry walked over to the bed, open-mouthed, treading on a few loose pages of Travels with Trolls. As he and Neville pulled the blankets back onto his bed, Ron, Dean, and Seamus came in. Dean swore loudly.

"What happened, Harry?"

"No idea," said Harry. But Ron was examining Harry's robes. All the pockets were hanging out. "Someone's been looking for something," said Ron. "Is there anything missing?"

Harry started to pick up all his things and throw them into his trunk. It was only as he threw the last of the Lockhart books back into it that he realized what wasn't there.

"Riddle's diary's gone," he said in an undertone to Ron.

"What?"

Harry jerked his head toward the dormitory door and Ron followed him out. They hurried

down to the Gryffindor common room, which was half-empty, and joined Hermione, who was sitting alone, reading a book called _Ancient Runes Made Easy_.

Hermione looked aghast at the news.

"But - only a Gryffindor could have stolen - nobody else knows our password -"

"Exactly," said Harry.

They woke the next day to brilliant sunshine and a light, refreshing breeze.

"Perfect Quidditch conditions!" said Wood enthusiastically at the Gryffindor table, loading the team's plates with scrambled eggs. "Harry, buck up there, you need a decent breakfast."

Harry had been staring down the packed Gryffindor table, wondering if the owner of Riddle's diary was right in front of his eyes. Hermione had been urging him to report the robbery, and Harry was seriously considering the idea. He didn't want to get another Gryffindor in trouble though. Ben had suggested some form of possession, meaning whoever it was wasn't at fault for colluding with Riddle.

As he left the Great Hall with Ron and Hermione to go and collect his Quidditch things, another very serious worry was added to Harry's growing list. He had just set foot on the marble staircase when he heard it yet again.

"_Kill this time… let me rip… tear… _"

He shouted aloud and Ron and Hermione both jumped away from him in alarm. Ben, who was nearby, was also visibly startled.

"The voice!" said Harry, looking over his shoulder. "I just heard it again - didn't you?"

Ron shook his head, wide-eyed. Hermione, however, clapped a hand to her forehead.

"Harry - I think I've just understood something! I've got to go to the library!"

And she sprinted away, up the stairs, Ben following in toe, his eyes wide with inspiration, calling to Hermione to wait for him.

"What did they just figure out?" said Harry distractedly, still looking around, trying to tell where the voice had come from.

"Loads more than I do," said Ron, shaking his head.

"But why's she got to go to the library?"

"Because that's what they do," said Ron, shrugging. "When in doubt, go to the library."

Harry stood, irresolute, trying to catch the voice again, but people were now emerging from the Great Hall behind him, talking loudly, exiting through the front doors on their way to the Quidditch pitch.

"You'd better get moving," said Ron. "It's nearly eleven - the match -"

Harry raced up to Gryffindor Tower, collected his Nimbus Two Thousand, and joined the large crowd swarming across the grounds, but his mind was still in the castle along with the bodiless voice, and as he pulled on his scarlet robes in the locker room, his only comfort was that everyone was now outside to watch the game.

The teams walked onto the field to tumultuous applause. Oliver Wood took off for a warm-up flight around the goal posts; Madam Hooch released the balls. The Hufflepuffs, who played in canary yellow, were standing in a huddle, having a last-minute discussion of tactics.

Harry was just mounting his broom when Professor McGonagall came half marching, half running across the pitch, carrying an enormous purple megaphone.

Harry's heart dropped like a stone.

"This match has been cancelled," Professor McGonagall called through the megaphone, addressing the packed stadium. There were boos and shouts. Oliver Wood, looking devastated, landed and ran toward Professor McGonagall without getting off his broomstick.

"But, Professor!" he shouted. "We've got to play - the cup - _Gryffindor_ -"

Professor McGonagall ignored him and continued to shout through her megaphone:

"All students are to make their way back to the House common rooms, where their Heads of Houses will give them further information. As quickly as you can, please!"

Then she lowered the megaphone and beckoned Harry over to her.

"Potter, I think you'd better come with me… "

Wondering how she could possibly suspect him this time, Harry saw Ron detach himself from the complaining crowd; he came running up to them as they set off toward the castle. To Harry's surprise, Professor McGonagall didn't object.

"Yes, perhaps you'd better come, too, Weasley… "

Some of the students swarming around them were grumbling about the match being canceled; others looked worried. Harry and Ron followed Professor McGonagall back into the school and up the marble staircase. But they weren't taken to anybody's office this time.

"This will be a bit of a shock," said Professor McGonagall in a surprisingly gentle voice as they approached the infirmary. "There has been another attack… a _triple_ attack."

Harry's insides did a horrible somersault. Professor McGonagall pushed the door open and he and Ron entered… Madam Pomfrey was bending over a sixth-year girl with long, curly hair.

Harry recognized her as the Ravenclaw they'd accidentally asked for directions to the Slytherin common room. And on the bed next to her was -

"_Hermione!_" Ron groaned.

Hermione lay utterly still, her eyes open and glassy. And on the bed next to her was -

"_Ben._" A heartbroken voice from the doorway croaked. Harry turned from the still form of Ben, apparently paused mid-word, to see Daphne, tears streaming down her face as she was being led by a brunette who Harry vaguely remembered as Tracey Davis to his bedside.

"They were found near the library," said Professor McGonagall. "I don't suppose either of you can explain this? It was on the floor next to them… "

She was holding up a small, circular mirror.

All of them shook their heads, not removing their eyes from their friends for long.

"I will escort you back to Gryffindor Tower," said Professor McGonagall heavily. "I need to address the students in any case. Professor Snape will be along to do the same with you."

* * *

"All students will return to their House common rooms by six o'clock in the evening. No student is to leave the dormitories after that time. You will be escorted to each lesson by a teacher. No student is to use the bathroom unaccompanied by a teacher. All further Quidditch training and matches are to be postponed. There will be no more evening activities."

The Gryffindors packed inside the common room listened to Professor McGonagall in silence. She rolled up the parchment from which she had been reading and said in a somewhat choked voice, "I need hardly add that I have rarely been so distressed. It is likely that the school will be closed unless the culprit behind these attacks is caught. I would urge anyone who thinks they might know anything about them to come forward."

She climbed somewhat awkwardly out of the portrait hole, and the Gryffindors began talking immediately.

"That's two Gryffindors down, not counting a Gryffindor ghost, two Ravenclaws, and one Hufflepuff, " said the Weasley twins' friend Lee Jordan, counting on his fingers. "Haven't any of the teachers noticed that the Slytherins are all safe? Isn't it obvious all this stuff's coming from Slytherin? The Heir of Slytherin, the monster of Slytherin - why don't they just chuck all the Slytherins out?" he roared, to nods and scattered applause.

"You weren't there," Ron croaked in response. "Two Slytherins were mourning one of those Ravenclaws. The heir could be among them, but not all of them deserve to be treated like that."

Percy Weasley was sitting in a chair behind Lee, but for once he didn't seem keen to make his views heard. He was looking pale and stunned.

"Percy's in shock," George told Harry quietly. "That Ravenclaw girl - Penelope Clearwater - she's a prefect. I don't think he thought the monster would dare attack a prefect."

But Harry was only half-listening. He didn't seem to be able to get rid of the picture of Hermione, lying on the hospital bed as though carved out of stone. And if the culprit wasn't caught soon, he was looking at a lifetime back with the Dursleys. Tom Riddle had turned Hagrid in because he was faced with the prospect of a Muggle orphanage if the school closed. Harry now knew exactly how he had felt.

"What're we going to do?" said Ron quietly in Harry's ear. "D'you think they suspect Hagrid?"

"We've got to go and warn him," said Harry, making up his mind. "I know it's not him this time and I doubt he did it last time, but if he was blamed for the monster last time he might know how to get inside the Chamber of Secrets, and that's a start."

"But McGonagall said we've got to stay in our tower unless we're in class -"

"I think," said Harry, more quietly still, "it's time to get my dad's old cloak out again."

**AN: This chapter is a bit unusual in that I am uploading this to early. Normally I upload, do final edits, and post on the same day, but I'm a bit bored, which is a rare thing for me. I'm able to be entertained by many easy things, such as reading or learning. Currently, I'm not 'feeling' anything that I'd want to do, but I'm going to try something. I'm probably going to edit the remaining chapters of the Chamber of Secrets, but I might combine them in order to better serve my story. Speaking of, I cut off my chapter here due to the fact that the visit to Hagrid wouldn't change.**

**Uploaded June 22nd, 2020, Posted June 26th, 2020**


	19. 19 - Anti-Aracno Revelations

(replaces Chapter 15 of Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets)

Summer was creeping over the grounds around the castle; sky and lake alike turned periwinkle blue and flowers large as cabbages burst into bloom in the greenhouses. But with no Hagrid visible from the castle windows, striding the grounds with Fang at his heels, the scene didn't look right to Harry; no better, in fact, than the inside of the castle, where things were so horribly wrong.

Harry and Ron had tried to visit Hermione and Ben, but visitors were now barred from the hospital wing.

"We're taking no more chances," Madam Pomfrey told them severely through a crack in the infirmary door. "No, I'm sorry, there's every chance the attacker might come back to finish these people off… "

With Dumbledore gone, fear had spread as never before, so that the sun warming the castle walls outside seemed to stop at the mullioned windows. There was barely a face to be seen in the school that didn't look worried and tense, and any laughter that rang through the corridors sounded shrill and unnatural and was quickly stifled.

Harry constantly repeated Dumbledore's final words to himself "_I will only truly have left this school when none here are loyal to me… Help will always be given at Hogwarts to those who ask for it._" But what good were these words? Who exactly were they supposed to ask for help, when everyone was just as confused and scared as they were?

Hagrid's hint about the spiders was far easier to understand. The trouble was, there didn't seem to be a single spider left in the castle to follow. Harry looked everywhere he went, helped (rather reluctantly) by Ron. They were hampered, of course, by the fact that they weren't allowed to wander off on their own but had to move around the castle in a pack with the other Gryffindors. Most of their fellow students seemed glad that they were being shepherded from class to class by teachers, but Harry found it very irksome.

Even Malfoy was frightened, after all, if the heir could petrify purebloods, then shouldn't the most powerful wizard alive be a good enough deterrent for it? Indeed, Daphne told Harry that he was taking a lot of flack in Slytherin for what his father did while they, Ron, Tracey, and Luna were studying in the library together. "They're punishing him for his father's actions," she told Harry in a tight, if neutral, tone. "He always claimed he thought his father might be the one who got rid of Dumbledore and that he thinks Dumbledore's the worst headmaster the school's ever had."

"Serves him right," Ron said. "His father's an idiot for doing that right now."

"Yeah," Harry said in a distracted tone.

"Come on, you lot," Tracey said after looking at all of their despairing stares. "Ben and Hermione wouldn't want you all to break down. Ben, from what I saw would prefer it if you focused on finding what did this to him and be happy. Hermione, I don't know, but I'd assume the same would be true."

Harry did indeed know that, but it still hurt, even if he was still on the hunt for the culprit. Daphne buried her head in her hands on the table and Luna didn't visibly react, her eyes still downcast as she worked. Ron reacted more violently to Tracey's point. "That's easy for you to say," Ron said in a harsh tone. "You weren't as close to them as we were. Hermione's one of my best friends."

"Sirius was furious in his last letter," Harry said. "He's confined to St. Mungo's until the end of the school year, so he can't come here. He's having Remus gather the dark artifacts in his house in one area. He and Ben had ordered Kreacher to help. Sirius'd rather be here with Ben, but well… "

"Ben took me under his wing," Luna piped up after Harry trailed off, voice tight with emotions. "He said I reminded him of Hope in some aspects. He said he was close to figuring out what caused all these petrifications without leaving marks on the victims."

Harry looked at Luna in shock. "What! How could he possibly have known they didn't have marks on them."

"He asked Madame Pompfrey," Daphne said, voice still tight with emotion. "It drove him crazy that there were no wounds on them."

_Well, that confirms that Hagrid didn't open the Chamber, _Harry thought, with some satisfaction. He knew that the spiders Hagrid had mentioned would prove his innocence, but didn't think they have more information.

"Did he know anything about the death that happened last time?" Ron asked, apparently realizing that Ben might have found something that prevented himself and Harry from following spiders around.

Daphne and Luna nodded. "Poor Myrtle Warren," Luna said. "Die on the loo with the wrong thing identified as the killer. An Acromantula would leave bite marks on the victim."

"Acro-what?" Harry asked as Ron flinched violently and paled.

"Acromantula," Daphne said. "Essentially a giant, poisonous spider. And by giant, I mean the size of an elephant."

Harry nodded, before returning to studying. It wasn't until he and Ron were getting ready for bed did he realize something.

"Ron," he hissed through the dark, "Ron -"

Ron woke with a yelp, stared wildly around, and saw Harry.

"Ron - that girl who died. Luna said she was found on the loo and her name was Myrtle," said Harry, ignoring Neville's snuffling snores from the corner. "What if she never left the bathroom? What if she's still there?"

Ron rubbed his eyes, frowning through the moonlight. And then he understood, too. "You _don't _think - not _Moaning Myrtle_?"

**AN: Another chapter complete! Looking ahead at the book, I'm going to have to revise one of my earlier statements, the next three chapters will be redone versions of the last three chapters, I don't think I could cut anything. I hope that everyone is doing well, and I'll 'see' you next time.**

**Uploaded July 10th, 2020**


	20. 20 - To Ginny's Aid We Go

(replaces most of chapter 16 of Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets)

Madam Pomfrey let them in, but reluctantly.

"There's just no point talking to petrified people," she said, and they had to admit she had a point when they'd taken their seats next to Hermione and Ben. It was plain that neither of them had the faintest inkling that they had visitors, and that they might just as well tell their bedside cabinet not to worry for all the good it would do.

"Wonder if she did see the attacker, though?" said Ron, looking sadly at Hermione's rigid face. "Because if he sneaked up on them all, no one'll ever know… "

But Harry wasn't looking at Hermione's face. He was more interested in Ben's right hand. It lay cupped to his side, and bending closer, Harry saw that a piece of paper was scrunched inside his cupped hand.

Making sure that Madam Pomfrey was nowhere near, he pointed this out to Ron.

"Go on and get it out," Ron whispered, shifting his chair so that he blocked Harry from Madam Pomfrey's view.

It wasn't an easy task. Although easier than if his hand was clenched, Ben had still had one finger firmly holding it. While Ron kept watch he tugged and twisted, and at last, after several tense minutes, the paper came free.

It was a page copied using the Page Copying Charm that Ben knew. Harry smoothed it out eagerly and Ron leaned close to read it, too.

"_Of the many fearsome beasts and monsters that roam our land, there is none more curious or more deadly than the Basilisk, known also as the King of Serpents. This snake, which may reach gigantic size and live many hundreds of years, is born from a chicken's egg, hatched beneath a toad. Its methods of killing are most wondrous, for aside from its deadly and venomous fangs, the Basilisk has a murderous stare, and all who are fixed with the beam of its eye shall suffer instant death. Spiders flee before the Basilisk, for it is their mortal enemy, and the Basilisk flees only from the crowing of the rooster, which is fatal to it."_

And beneath this, multiple notes were written. In a hand Harry recognized as Hermione's was a single word: _Pipes_. In Ben's, however, were two: _Myrtle Warren's bathroom = entrance? _and _T. M. Riddle diary - possession?_

"Ron," he breathed. "This is it. This is the answer. The monster in the Chamber's a basilisk - a giant serpent! That's why I've been hearing that voice all over the place, and nobody else has heard it. It's because I understand Parseltongue… "

Harry looked up at the beds around him.

"The basilisk kills people by looking at them. But no one's died - because no one looked it straight in the eye. Colin saw it through his camera. The basilisk burned up all the film inside it, but Colin just got Petrified. Justin… Justin must've seen the basilisk through Nearly Headless Nick! Nick got the full blast of it, but he couldn't die again… and Hermione, Ben, and that Ravenclaw prefect were found with a mirror next to them. Hermione and Ben had just realized the monster was a basilisk. I bet you anything they warned the first person they met to look around corners with a mirror first! And that girl pulled out her mirror - and -"

Ron's jaw had dropped.

"And Mrs. Norris?" he whispered eagerly.

Harry thought hard, picturing the scene on the night of Halloween.

"The water… " he said slowly. "The flood from Moaning Myrtle's bathroom. I bet you Mrs. Norris only saw the reflection… "

He scanned the page in his hand eagerly. The more he looked at it, the more it made sense. "… The crowing of the rooster… is fatal to it!" he read aloud. "Hagrid's roosters were killed! The Heir of Slytherin didn't want one anywhere near the castle once the Chamber was opened! Spiders flee before it! It all fits!"

"But how's the basilisk been getting around the place?" said Ron. "A giant snake… Someone would've seen… "

Harry, however, pointed at the word Hermione had scribbled at the foot of the page.

"Pipes," he said. "Pipes… Ron, it's been using the plumbing. I've been hearing that voice inside the walls… "

"And according to Ben's message, the entrance is in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom," Ron pointed out. "But what's his final message."

They sat there, thinking for a moment. Harry examined the words until it clicked.

"Ron," he said in a low voice. "What if the person opening the Chamber isn't aware that they're doing it. What if Ben was right about Tom Riddle opening the Chamber and the diary was possessing someone."

Ron looked horrified. "What're we going to do?" asked Ron, voice hoarse. "Should we go straight to McGonagall?"

"Let's go to the staff room," said Harry, jumping up. "She'll be there in ten minutes. It's nearly break."

They ran downstairs. Not wanting to be discovered hanging around in another corridor, they went straight into the deserted staff room. It was a large, paneled room full of dark, wooden chairs. Harry and Ron paced around it, too excited to sit down.

But the bell to signal break never came.

Instead, echoing through the corridors came Professor McGonagall's voice, magically magnified.

"All students to return to their House dormitories at once. All teachers return to the staff room. Immediately, please."

Harry wheeled around to stare at Ron. "Not another attack? Not now?"

"What'll we do?" said Ron, aghast. "Go back to the dormitory?"

"No," said Harry, glancing around. There was an ugly sort of wardrobe to his left, full of the teachers' cloaks. "In here. Let's hear what it's all about. Then we can tell them what we've found out."

They hid themselves inside it, listening to the rumbling of hundreds of people moving overhead, and the staff room door banging open. From between the musty folds of the cloaks, they watched the teachers filtering into the room. Some of them were looking puzzled, others downright scared. Then Professor McGonagall arrived.

"It has happened," she told the silent staff room. "A student has been taken by the monster. Right into the Chamber itself."

Professor Flitwick let out a squeal. Professor Sprout clapped her hands over her mouth. Snape gripped the back of a chair very hard and said, "How can you be sure?"

"The Heir of Slytherin," said Professor McGonagall, who was very white, "left another message. Right underneath the first one. '_Her skeleton will lie in the Chamber forever.'_ "

Professor Flitwick burst into tears.

"Who is it?" said Madam Hooch, who had sunk, weak-kneed, into a chair. "Which student?"

"Ginny Weasley," said Professor McGonagall.

Harry felt Ron slide silently down onto the wardrobe floor beside him, groaning very lightly.

"We shall have to send all the students home tomorrow," said Professor McGonagall. "This is the end of Hogwarts. Dumbledore always said… "

The staffroom door banged open again. For one wild moment, Harry was sure it would be Dumbledore. But it was Lockhart, and he was beaming.

"So sorry - dozed off - what have I missed?"

He didn't seem to notice that the other teachers were looking at him with something remarkably like hatred. Snape stepped forward.

"Just the man," he said. "The very man. A girl has been snatched by the monster, Lockhart. Taken into the Chamber of Secrets itself. Your moment has come at last."

Lockhart blanched.

"That's right, Gilderoy," chipped in Professor Sprout. "Weren't you saying just last night that you've known all along where the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets is?"

"I - well, I -" sputtered Lockhart.

"Yes, didn't you tell me you were sure you knew what was inside it?" piped up Professor Flitwick.

"D-did I? I don't recall -"

"I certainly remember you saying you were sorry you hadn't had a crack at the monster before Hagrid was arrested," said Snape. "Didn't you say that the whole affair had been bungled, and that you should have been given a free rein from the first?"

Lockhart stared around at his stony-faced colleagues.

"I - I really never - you may have misunderstood -"

"We'll leave it to you, then, Gilderoy," said Professor McGonagall. "Tonight will be an excellent time to do it. We'll make sure everyone's out of your way. You'll be able to tackle the monster all by yourself. A free rein at last."

Lockhart gazed desperately around him, but nobody came to the rescue. He didn't look remotely handsome anymore. His lip was trembling, and in the absence of his usually toothy grin, he looked weak-chinned and feeble.

"V-very well," he said. "I'll - I'll be in my office, getting - getting ready."

And he left the room.

"Right," said Professor McGonagall, whose nostrils were flared, "that's got him out from under our feet. The Heads of Houses should go and inform their students what has happened. Tell them the Hogwarts Express will take them home first thing tomorrow. Will the rest of you please make sure no students have been left outside their dormitories."

The teachers rose and left, one by one. Once Professor McGonagall was the only one left, she turned towards the wardrobe. "Come on out, you two."

Harry opened the door to see Professor McGonagall standing there, face full of sympathy. "How'd you know we were here?"

"I _am_ a cat animagus, Mr. Potter," she said. "When Mr. Weasley groaned, I heard it. Now, let's go back to the Gryffindor dormitories."

The teacher and students walked in silence for a few moments before Professor McGonagall spoke. "What were you doing in there, if I may ask?"

"We'd just figured out where the Chamber of Secrets was and what's in it. Or, really, Hermione and Ben had and we just found their notes." Harry responded, Ron still in a state of shock and despair.

Professor McGonagall's eyebrow rose. "And?"

"It's a basilisk," Harry said. "The entrance is probably in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom."

Professor McGonagall's eyes widened in shock and horror. "How did we miss that?"

"Only a Parseltoungue can open it," Harry said. "It was probably also a Slytherin family secret."

Professor McGonagall stood for a moment, mouth agape, before she shook herself and continued on. "Right, Mr. Potter, if you could go and tell Gilderoy that his services are no longer needed, I'll be along to take you to my office."

"But it's my sister! I _need_ to help!" Ron protested.

"Mr. Weasley, I'm already risking one student's life, I'll not risk another," She looked at Ron with a compassionate look. "I'm sorry, but that's my final answer."

Harry left at that moment, walking to Professor Lockhart's office.

Harry knocked and there was a sudden silence from inside. Then the door opened the tiniest crack and they saw one of Lockhart's eyes peering through it.

"Oh - Mr. Potter -" he said, opening the door a bit wider. "I'm rather busy at the moment - if you would be quick -"

"Professor, I've got some information for you," said Harry. "I think you'll appreciate it."

"Er - well - it's not terribly -" The side of Lockhart's face that they could see looked very uncomfortable. "I mean - well - all right -"

He opened the door and they entered.

His office had started to be stripped. Two large trunks stood open on the floor. Robes, jade-green, lilac, midnight blue, had been hastily folded into one of them; some books were jumbled untidily into the other. Nothing had yet to be taken from the walls, not even the mirror Harry was standing in front of.

"Are you going somewhere?" said Harry.

"Er, well, yes," said Lockhart, ripping a life-size poster of himself from the back of the door as he spoke and starting to roll it up. "Urgent call - unavoidable - got to go -"

"What about Ginny?" said Harry testily.

"Well, as to that - most unfortunate -" said Lockhart, avoiding their eyes as he wrenched open a drawer and started emptying the contents into a bag. "No one regrets more than I -"

"You're the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher!" said Harry. "You can't go now! Not with all the Dark stuff going on here!"

"Well - I must say - when I took the job -" Lockhart muttered, now piling socks on top of his robes. "nothing in the job description - didn't expect -"

"You mean you're running away?" said Harry disbelievingly. "After all that stuff you did in your books -"

"Books can be misleading," said Lockhart delicately.

"You wrote them!" Harry shouted.

"My dear boy," said Lockhart, straightening up and frowning at Harry. "Do use your common sense. My books wouldn't have sold half as well if people didn't think I'd done all those things. No one wants to read about some ugly old Armenian warlock, even if he did save a village from werewolves. He'd look dreadful on the front cover. No dress sense at all. And the witch who banished the Bandon Banshee had a hairy chin. I mean, come on -"

"So you've just been taking credit for what a load of other people have done?" said Harry incredulously.

"Harry, Harry," said Lockhart, shaking his head impatiently, "it's not nearly as simple as that. There was work involved. I had to track these people down. Ask them exactly how they managed to do what they did. Then I had to put a Memory Charm on them so they wouldn't remember doing it. If there's one thing I pride myself on, it's my Memory Charms. No, it's been a lot of work, Harry. It's not all book signings and publicity photos, you know. You want fame, you have to be prepared for a long hard slog."

He banged the lids of his trunks shut and locked them.

"Let's see," he said. "I think that's everything. Yes. Only one thing left."

He pulled out his wand and turned to them.

"Awfully sorry, Harry, but I'll have to put a Memory Charm on you now. Can't have you blabbing my secrets all over the place. I'd never sell another book - say good-bye to your memories!" Lockhart raised his wand in the air "_Obliviate!"_

As the spell sped towards him, Harry used his Quidditch-trained reflexes to dodge out of the way, the spell sailed past him before rebounding off the mirror straight back at Lockhart. The spell hit Lockhart, knocking him backwards and caused him to hit his head on one of his trunks. The door burst open, revealing Professor McGonagall.

"What happened?" Professor McGonagall asked, wand held aloft.

"Lockhart tried to wipe my memories. It turns out he's been doing that to other witches and wizards to write his stories."

Professor McGonagall's nostrils flared and lisps thinned.

"Well, Mr. Potter, I'm pleased that you haven't had your memories wiped and that Gilderoy is taken care of. If you'll follow me."

Harry followed her as she led him back to her office. On arrival, she directed him to sit before she took some Floo powder out of a pot on the fireplace and, throwing it into the fire, briskly stated, "Magical Law Enforcement office." After the fire turned green she stuck only her head inside, much to Harry's surprise.

Harry sat waiting impatiently for a few minutes before Professor McGonagall stood and backed up. Before Harry could ask any questions, the fire rose as a wizard stepped out of it. This wizard had a long, grizzled man of dark grey hair and a face unlike any Harry had ever seen. It looked like it had been carved out of weathered wood by someone who had only the vaguest idea of what human faces are supposed to look like, and was none too skilled with a chisel. Every inch of skin seemed to be scarred. The mouth looked like a diagonal gash, and a large chunk of his nose was missing. His eyes, though, were the most unsettling thing about him.

One of them was small, dark, and beady. The other was large, round as a coin, and a vivid, electric blue. The blue eye was moving ceaselessly, without blinking, and was rolling up, down, and from side to side, quite independently of the other eye - and then it rolled right over, pointing into the back of the man's head, so all Harry could see was whiteness.

The man moved out of the way, with a _clunk_ every other step, for another man to come through. The tall black man that just came through was more normal looking than his predecessor. He was bald with a single gold hoop in his ear. He moved out of the way just in time for a young woman to trip out of the fireplace, nearly sprawling out on the floor.

Professor McGonagall sighed as the violent haired young woman recovered. Professor McGonagall turned to Harry. "These are Senior Auror Alastor Moody - " she indicated the heavily scarred man " - Auror Kingsley Shacklebolt - " the bald man nodded " - and Auror Trainee Nymphadora Tonks." the young woman glowered at the professor "You're to take them into the Chamber and let them handle the Basilisk."

Harry nodded before turning to Tonks. "You wouldn't happen to be related to Sirius Black, would you?"

Tonks nodded. "Yes, he's my mother's cousin. Why?"

"Sirius mentioned her to Ben and I in one of his letters to the both of us."

"Sounds like Sirius."

"You can play catch-up later." Moody growled out. "Right, lad, show us the way."

Harry nodded before leading them out of the office and up the nearest stairs, along the dark corridor where the messages shone on the wall, to the door of Moaning Myrtle's bathroom.

Moaning Myrtle was sitting on the tank of the end toilet.

"Oh, it's you," she said when she saw Harry. "What do you want this time?"

"To ask you how you died," said Harry.

Myrtle's whole aspect changed at once. She looked as though she had never been asked such a flattering question.

"Ooooh, it was dreadful," she said with relish. "It happened right in here. I died in this very stall. I remember it so well. I'd hidden because Olive Hornby was teasing me about my glasses. The door was locked, and I was crying, and then I heard somebody come in. They said something funny. A different language, I think it must have been. Anyway, what really got me was that it was a _boy_ speaking. So I unlocked the door, to tell him to go and use his own toilet, and then -" Myrtle swelled importantly, her face shining. "I _died._"

"How?" said Harry.

"No idea," said Myrtle in hushed tones. "I just remember seeing a pair of great, big, yellow eyes. My whole body sort of seized up, and then I was floating away..." She looked dreamily at Harry. "And then I came back again. I was determined to haunt Olive Hornby, you see. Oh, she was sorry she'd ever laughed at my glasses."

"Where exactly did you see the eyes?" said Harry.

"Somewhere there," said Myrtle, pointing vaguely toward the sink in front of her toilet.

Harry and the Aurors turned to look at the sinks. "There's definitely a passage under it." Moody confirmed. "Good work, lad."

"My friends guessed where it was," Harry said, bashfully.

"But you're the one who confirmed it," Kingsley stated. "Do you know how to open it?"

Harry nodded before closing his eyes and trying what Ben said to him to try to help him in transfiguration. _Visualize what you want, Harry_, Ben's voice echoed in Harry's head. He visualized the snake from the dueling club before speaking.

"Open up," he said.

Except that the words weren't what he heard; a strange hissing had escaped him, and at once the tap glowed with a brilliant white light and began to spin. Next second, the sink began to move; the sink, in fact, sank, right out of sight, leaving a large pipe exposed, a pipe wide enough for a man to slide into.

Moody nodded to him. "I'll go down first, make sure you're not needed anymore before the rest of you come down."

Without waiting for a reply, he slipped into the pipe and he slid out of sight. The trio at the entrance wait for a few minutes before they heard him faintly call back. "Potter, you're needed!"

With that, Harry followed quickly. He lowered himself slowly into the pipe, then let go.

It was like rushing down an endless, slimy, dark slide. He could see more pipes branching off in all directions, but none as large as theirs, which twisted and turned, sloping steeply downward, and he knew that he was falling deeper below the school than even the dungeons. Behind him he could hear the other Aurors, thudding slightly at the curves.

And then, just as he had begun to worry about what would happen when he hit the ground, the pipe leveled out, and he shot out of the end with a wet thud, landing on the damp floor of a dark stone tunnel large enough to stand in. Moody was standing at the entrance to the next tunnel, blue eye rolled in the back of his head. Harry quickly moved out of the way as Kingsley whizzed out of the pipe. He stood aside as Tonks came flying out of the pipe, cursing loudly.

After they were all standing, they moved further into the tunnel cautiously, alert for any signs of movement. They walked for a bit before Moody whispered to them, "There's a skin up ahead."

The light slid over a gigantic snake skin shortly after he said that, of a vivid, poisonous green, lying curled and empty across the tunnel floor. The creature that had shed it must have been twenty feet long, at least.

Tonks whistled quietly. They moved past the snake skin without comment, Harry desperately trying not to picture what Ginny might look like if they found her.

The tunnel turned and turned again. Every nerve in Harry's body was tingling unpleasantly. He wanted the tunnel to end, yet dreaded what they'd find when it did. And then, at last, as they crept around yet another bend, he saw a solid wall ahead on which two entwined serpents were carved, their eyes set with great, glinting emeralds.

Harry approached first, his throat very dry. There was no need to pretend there were live snakes; the stone snakes' eyes looked strangely alive.

He could guess what he had to do. He cleared his throat, and the emerald eyes seemed to flicker.

"Open," said Harry, in a low, faint hiss.

The serpents parted as the wall cracked open, the halves slid smoothly out of sight, and Harry, shaking from head to foot, walked inside.

**AN: Well, another day, another chapter. My computer is occasionally giving me issues with certain keys, but other than that, nothing to report. I hope you all are surviving quarantine and not going insane.**

**Uploaded July 24th, 2020**


	21. 21 - A Riddle Solved

(replaces chapter 17 of Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets)

Harry was standing at the end of a very long, dimly lit chamber. Towering stone pillars entwined with more carved serpents rose to support a ceiling lost in darkness, casting long, black shadows through the odd, greenish gloom that filled the place. His heart beating very fast, Harry stood listening to the chill silence. Could the basilisk be lurking in a shadowy corner, behind a pillar? And where was Ginny?

A hand clasped his shoulder, causing him to jump slightly. He turned to see that it was Moody. "You didn't need to come in here, Potter."

"Oh, let the kid come, Moody," Tonks said before adopting a teasing tone. "He's probably worried about his girlfriend."

Harry's cheeks burned with embarrassment, but, before he could retort, Shacklebolt whispered "Quiet" in a commanding tone to them.

The Aurors pulled out their wands and moved with Harry forward between the serpentine columns. Every careful footstep echoed loudly off the shadowy walls. Harry kept his eyes narrowed, ready to clamp them shut at the smallest sign of movement. The hollow eye sockets of the stone snakes seemed to be following him. More than once, with a jolt of the stomach, he thought he saw one stir. Only Tonks seemed to be in a comparable state.

Then, as the group drew level with the last pair of pillars, a statue high as the Chamber itself loomed into view, standing against the back wall.

Harry had to crane his neck to look up into the giant face above: It was ancient and monkeyish, with a long, thin beard that fell almost to the bottom of the wizard's sweeping stone robes, where two enormous gray feet stood on the smooth Chamber floor. And between the feet, facedown, lay a small, black-robed figure with flaming-red hair.

"Ginny!" Harry muttered, sprinting to her and dropping to his knees. "Ginny - don't be dead - please don't be dead -" He flung his wand aside, grabbed Ginny's shoulders, and turned her over. Her face was white as marble, and as cold, yet her eyes were closed, so she wasn't Petrified. But then she must be…

"Ginny, please wake up," Harry muttered desperately, shaking her. Ginny's head lolled hopelessly from side to side.

The rest of the group arrived at that moment, Moody chastising him as Tonks scanned Ginny with her wand. "That was foolish, Potter."

"She's still alive, but fading," Tonks said, slightly bewildered. "I don't know how."

"Perhaps _he _can answer that," Shacklebolt said, wand pointing at a figure. Moody and Tonks's wands immediately pointed at the figure as well.

"How observant," the figure observed in a soft voice. As he spoke, Harry figured out who he was.

"Tom - _Tom Riddle_?"

Riddle nodded, not taking his eyes off Harry's face.

"What d'you mean, she won't wake?" Tonks asked fiercely. "She's still alive!"

"Yes," said Riddle. "But only just."

The group stared at him. Tom Riddle had been at Hogwarts fifty years ago, yet here he stood, a weird, misty light shining about him, not a day older than sixteen.

"Are you a ghost?" Harry said uncertainly.

"A memory," said Riddle quietly. "Preserved in a diary for fifty years."

Moody snorted. "A memory isn't powerful enough to do this. Try again."

Riddle's mouth twitched. "A soul, then."

"So, Ben was right, then," Harry said. "You're Voldemort."

The Aurors didn't flinch, aside from Tonks, but tightened the grips on their wands. Riddle looked surprised before he smirked creully. "Ah, yes, the Black heir. He was correct. I am Lord Voldemort. I've waited a long time for this, Harry Potter. For the chance to see you. To speak to you."

"How did Ginny get like this?" Harry asked slowly.

"Well, that's an interesting question," said Riddle pleasantly. "And quite a long story. I suppose the real reason Ginny Weasley's like this is because she opened her heart and spilled all her secrets to an invisible stranger."

"What are you talking about?" said Harry.

"The diary," said Riddle. "_My _diary. Little Ginny's been writing in it for months and months, telling me all her pitiful worries and woes - how her brothers _tease _her, how she had to come to school with secondhand robes and books, how -" Riddle's eyes glinted "- how she didn't think famous, good, great Harry Potter would ever like her… "

All the time he spoke, Riddle's eyes never left Harry's face. There was an almost hungry look in them.

"Sounds about right," Tonks muttered under her breath. Riddle ignored her.

"It's very _boring_, having to listen to the silly little troubles of an eleven-year-old girl," he went on. "But I was patient. I wrote back. I was sympathetic, I was kind. Ginny simply _loved_ me. _No one's ever understood me like you, Tom… I'm so glad I've got this diary to confide in… It's like having a friend I can carry around in my pocket… _"

Riddle laughed, a high, cold laugh that made the hairs stand up on the back of Harry's neck.

"If I say it myself, Harry, I've always been able to charm the people I needed. So Ginny poured out her soul to me, and her soul happened to be exactly what I wanted… I grew stronger and stronger on a diet of her deepest fears, her darkest secrets. I grew powerful, far more powerful than little Miss Weasley. Powerful enough to start feeding Miss Weasley a few of _my _secrets, to start pouring a little of _my_ soul back into her… "

"Ben _really _was right then," Harry said. "_You _opened the Chamber of Secrets _through_ _Ginny_."

"Yes," Riddle said calmly. "Of course, she didn't know what she was doing at first. It was very amusing. I wish you could have seen her new diary entries… far more interesting, they became… _Dear Tom,_" he recited, watching Harry's horrified face, "_I think I'm losing my memory. There are rooster feathers all over my robes and I don't know how they got there. Dear Tom, I can't remember what I did on the night of Halloween, but a cat was attacked and I've got paint all down my front. Dear Tom, Percy keeps telling me I'm pale and I'm not myself. I think he suspects me… There was another attack today and I don't know where I was. Tom, what am I going to do? I think I'm going mad… I think I'm the one attacking everyone, Tom!_"

Harry's fists were clenched, the nails digging deep into his palms.

"It took a very long time for stupid little Ginny to stop trusting her diary," said Riddle. "But she finally became suspicious and tried to dispose of it. And that's where _you_ came in, Harry. You found it, and I couldn't have been more delighted. Of all the people who could have picked it up, it was _you_, the very person I was most anxious to meet… "

"Typical," Moody barked. "And I imagine you want to know what happened that night."

"Yes," Riddle hissed. "I want to know how I, in whose veins runs the blood of Salazar Slytherin himself, through my mother's side, I, who became the greatest sorcerer in the world died while you, an insignificant baby survived."

"You're not," Harry said, his quiet voice full of hatred.

"Not what?" snapped Riddle.

"Not the greatest sorcerer in the world," said Harry, breathing fast. "Sorry to disappoint you and all that, but the greatest wizard in the world is Albus Dumbledore. Everyone says so. Even when you were strong, you didn't dare try and take over at Hogwarts. Dumbledore saw through you when you were at school and he still frightens you now, wherever you're hiding these days -"

The smile had gone from Riddle's face, to be replaced by a very ugly look.

"Dumbledore's been driven out of this castle by the mere _memory_ of me!" he hissed.

"He's not as gone as you might think!" Harry retorted. He was speaking at random, wanting to scare Riddle, wishing rather than believing it to be true -

Riddle opened his mouth, but froze.

Music was coming from somewhere. Riddle whirled around to stare down the empty Chamber.

The music was growing louder. It was eerie, spine-tingling, unearthly; it lifted the hair on Harry's scalp and made his heart feel as though it was swelling to twice its normal size. Then, as the music reached such a pitch that Harry felt it vibrating inside his own ribs, flames erupted at the top of the nearest pillar.

A crimson bird the size of a swan had appeared, piping its weird music to the vaulted ceiling. It had a glittering golden tail as long as a peacock's and gleaming golden talons, which were gripping a ragged bundle.

A second later, the bird was flying straight at Harry. It dropped the ragged thing it was carrying at his feet, then landed heavily on his shoulder. As it folded its great wings, Harry looked up and saw it had a long, sharp golden beak and a beady black eye.

The bird stopped singing. It sat still and warm next to Harry's cheek, gazing steadily at Riddle. "That's a phoenix." said Riddle, staring shrewdly back at it.

"_Fawkes_?" Harry breathed, and he felt the bird's golden claws squeeze his shoulder gently.

"And _that_ -" said Riddle, now eyeing the ragged thing that Fawkes had dropped, "that's the old school Sorting Hat -"

So it was. Patched, frayed, and dirty, the hat lay motionless at Harry's feet.

Riddle began to laugh again. He laughed so hard that the dark chamber rang with it, as though ten Riddles were laughing at once -

"Bit creepy," Tonks muttered again.

"This is what Dumbledore sends his defender!" Riddle crowed "A songbird and an old hat! Do you feel brave, Harry Potter? Do you feel safe now?"

Harry didn't answer. He might not see what use Fawkes or the Sorting Hat were, but he was no longer uncertain about what he was doing, and he waited for Riddle to stop laughing with his courage mounting.

"To business, Harry," said Riddle, still smiling broadly and still ignoring the Aurors. "Twice - in _your_ past, in _my_ future - we have met. And twice I failed to kill you. _How did you survive_? Tell me everything. The longer you talk," he added softly, "the longer you stay alive."

Harry was thinking fast, weighing his chances. Riddle had the wand. He, Harry, had Fawkes and the Sorting Hat, neither of which would be much good in a duel. It looked bad, all right… but the longer Riddle stood there, the more life was dwindling out of Ginny… and in the meantime, Harry noticed suddenly, Riddle's outline was becoming clearer, more solid… If it had to be a fight between him and Riddle, better sooner than later.

"No one knows why you lost your powers when you attacked me," said Harry abruptly. "I don't know myself. But I know why you couldn't _kill _me. Because my mother died to save me. My common _Muggle-born_ mother," he added, shaking with suppressed rage. "She stopped you killing me. And I've seen the real you, I saw you last year. You're a wreck. You're barely alive. That's where all your power got you. You're in hiding. You're ugly, you're foul -"

Riddle's face contorted. Then he forced it into an awful smile. "So. Your mother died to save you. Yes, that's a powerful countercharm. I can see now… there is nothing special about you, after all. I wondered, you see. There are strange likenesses between us, after all. Even you must have noticed. Both half-bloods, orphans, raised by Muggles. Probably the only two Parselmouths to come to Hogwarts since the great Slytherin himself. We even _look_ something alike… but after all, it was merely a lucky chance that saved you from me. That's all I wanted to know."

Harry stood, tense, waiting for Riddle to raise his wand. But Riddle's twisted smile was widening again.

"Now, Harry, I'm going to teach you a little lesson. Let's match the powers of Lord Voldemort, Heir of Salazar Slytherin, against famous Harry Potter, and the best weapons Dumbledore can give him… "

He cast an amused eye over Fawkes and the Sorting Hat, then walked away. Harry, fear spreading up his numb legs, watched Riddle stop between the high pillars and look up into the stone face of Slytherin, high above him in the half-darkness. Riddle opened his mouth wide and hissed - but Harry understood what he was saying…

"_Speak to me, Slytherin, greatest of the Hogwarts Four_."

Harry and the Aurors wheeled around to look up at the statue, Fawkes swaying on Harry's shoulder.

Slytherin's gigantic stone face was moving. Horrorstruck, Harry saw his mouth opening, wider and wider, to make a huge black hole.

"That's disturbing," Tonks stated.

And something was stirring inside the statue's mouth. Something was slithering up from its depths.

Harry backed away until he hit the dark Chamber wall, and as he shut his eyes tight he felt Fawkes' wing sweep his cheek as he took flight. Harry wanted to shout, "Don't leave me!" but how could a phoenix help when against the king of serpents?

"Basilisk income!" Moody barked, his blue eyes rolling into the back of his head. "Eyes shut!"

Something huge hit the stone floor of the Chamber. Harry felt it shudder - he knew what was happening, he could sense it, could almost see the giant serpent uncoiling itself from Slytherin's mouth. Then he heard Riddle's hissing voice:

"_Kill them_. _Start with the boy_."

The basilisk was moving toward Harry; he could hear its heavy body slithering heavily across the dusty floor. Eyes still tightly shut, Harry began to run blindly sideways, his hands outstretched, feeling his way - Voldemort was laughing.

Harry tripped. He fell hard onto the stone and tasted blood the serpent was barely feet from him, he could hear it coming.

Spellfire ricochet off of the Basilisk, even as it was coming after him. The Aurors weren't doing any damage to it, even as they were backing up from the sounds of their footsteps.

There was a loud, explosive spitting sound right above him, and then something heavy hit Harry so hard that he was smashed into the wall. Waiting for fangs to sink through his body he heard more mad hissing, something thrashing wildly off the pillars.

He couldn't help it - he opened his eyes wide enough to squint at what was going on.

The enormous serpent, bright, poisonous green, thick as an oak trunk, had raised itself high in the air and its great blunt head was weaving drunkenly between the pillars. As Harry trembled, ready to close his eyes if it turned, he saw what had distracted the snake.

Fawkes was soaring around its head, and the basilisk was snapping furiously at him with fangs long and thin as sabers Fawkes dived. His long golden beak sank out of sight and a sudden shower of dark blood spattered the floor. The snake's tail thrashed, narrowly missing Harry, and before Harry could shut his eyes, it turned - Harry looked straight into its face and saw that its eyes, both its great, bulbous yellow eyes, had been punctured by the phoenix; blood was streaming to the floor, and the snake was spitting in agony.

"_NO!_" Harry heard Riddle screaming. "_LEAVE THE BIRD! LEAVE THE BIRD! THE BOY IS BEHIND YOU. YOU CAN STILL SMELL HIM. KILL HIM!_"

"It's blind!" Harry yelled to the Aurors.

The Aurors opened their eyes, their spellfire becoming more accurate.

The snake's tail whipped across the floor again. Harry ducked. Something soft hit his face. The basilisk had swept the Sorting Hat into Harry's arms. Harry seized it. It was all he had left, his only chance - he rammed it onto his head and threw himself flat onto the floor as the basilisk's tail swung over him again.

_Help me_ \- _help me_ \- Harry thought, his eyes screwed tight under the hat. _Please help me_.

There was no answering voice. Instead, the hat contracted, as though an invisible hand was squeezing it very tightly.

Something very hard and heavy thudded onto the top of Harry's head, almost knocking him out. Stars winking in front of his eyes, he grabbed the top of the hat to pull it off and felt something long and hard beneath it.

A gleaming silver sword had appeared inside the hat, its handle glittering with rubies the size of eggs.

"_KILL THE BOY! LEAVE THE BIRD! THE BOY IS BEHIND YOU. SNIFF - SMELL HIM_."

Harry was on his feet, ready. The basilisk's head was falling, its body coiling around, hitting pillars as it twisted to face him. He could see the vast, bloody eye sockets, see the mouth stretching wide, wide enough to swallow him whole, lined with fangs long as his sword, thin, glittering, venomous -

It lunged blindly - Harry dodged and it hit the Chamber wall. It lunged again, and its forked tongue lashed Harry's side. He raised the sword in both his hands -

The basilisk lunged again, and this time its aim was true - Harry threw his whole weight behind the sword and drove it to the hilt into the roof of the serpent's mouth -

But as warm blood drenched Harry's arms, he felt a searing pain just above his elbow. One long, poisonous fang was sinking deeper and deeper into his arm and it splintered as the basilisk keeled over sideways and fell, twitching, to the floor.

Harry slid down the wall. He gripped the fang that was spreading poison through his body and wrenched it out of his arm. But he knew it was too late. White-hot pain was spreading slowly and steadily from the wound. Even as he dropped the fang and watched his own blood soaking his robes, his vision went foggy. The Chamber was dissolving in a whirl of dull color.

A patch of scarlet swam past, and Harry heard a soft clatter of claws beside him.

"Fawkes," said Harry thickly. "You were fantastic, Fawkes… "

He felt the bird lay its beautiful head on the spot where the serpent's fang had pierced him.

He could hear echoing footsteps and then a dark shadow moved in front of him.

"You're dead, Harry Potter," said Riddle's voice above him. "Dead. Even Dumbledore's bird knows it. Do you see what he's doing, Potter? He's crying."

Harry blinked. Fawke's head slid in and out of focus. Thick, pearly tears were trickling down the glossy feathers.

"I'm going to sit here and watch you die, Harry Potter. Take your time. I'm in no hurry."

Harry felt drowsy. Everything around him seemed to be spinning.

"So ends the famous Harry Potter," said Riddle's distant voice. "Alone in the Chamber of

Secrets, forsaken by his friends, defeated at last by the Dark Lord he so unwisely challenged. You'll be back with your dear Mudblood mother soon, Harry… She bought you twelve years of borrowed time… but Lord Voldemort got you in the end, as you knew he must… "

If this is dying, thought Harry, it's not so bad.

Even the pain was leaving him…

But was this dying? Instead of going black, the Chamber seemed to be coming back into focus.

Harry gave his head a little shake and there was Fawkes, still resting his head on Harry's arm. A pearly patch of tears was shining all around the wound - except that there was no wound.

"I wouldn't be too sure, Riddle," Shacklebolt stated, standing beside Harry. The other Aurors took that moment to gather around Harry. Fawkes took flight again in a whirl of gold and scarlet.

"Phoenix tears… " said Riddle quietly, staring at Harry's arm. "Of course… healing powers… I forgot… "

He looked into Harry's face. "But it makes no difference. In fact, I prefer it this way. Just you and me, Harry Potter… me cursing you… "

He raised the wand he held, presumably Ginny's.

Then, in a rush of wings, Fawkes had soared back overhead and something fell into Harry's lap - _the diary_.

For a split second, both Harry and Riddle, wand still raised, stared at it. Then, without thinking, without considering, as though he had meant to do it all along, Harry seized the basilisk fang on the floor next to him and plunged it straight into the heart of the book.

There was a long, dreadful, piercing scream. Ink spurted out of the diary in torrents, streaming over Harry's hands, flooding the floor. Riddle was writhing and twisting, screaming and flailing and then -

He had gone. Harry's wand fell to the floor with a clatter and there was silence. Silence except for the steady _drip drip_ of ink still oozing from the diary. The basilisk venom had burned a sizzling hole right through it.

Shaking all over, Harry pulled himself up. His head was spinning as though he'd just traveled miles by Floo powder. Slowly, he gathered together his wand and the Sorting Hat, and, with a huge tug, retrieved the glittering sword from the roof of the basilisk's mouth.

Then came a faint moan from the end of the Chamber. Ginny was stirring. As Harry hurried toward her, she sat up. Her bemused eyes traveled from the huge form of the dead basilisk, over Harry, in his blood-soaked robes, then to the diary in his hand. She drew a great, shuddering gasp and tears began to pour down her face.

"Harry - oh, Harry - I tried to tell you at b-breakfast, but I _c-couldn't_ say it in front of Percy - it was _me_, Harry - but I - I s-swear I d-didn't mean to - R-Riddle made me, he t-took me over - and - _how_ did you kill that - that thing? W-where's Riddle? The last thing I r-remember is him coming out of the diary -"

" It's all right," said Harry, holding up the diary, and showing Ginny the fang hole, "Riddle's finished. Look! Him _and_ the basilisk. C'mon, Ginny, let's get out of here -"

"I'm going to be expelled!" Ginny wept as Harry helped her awkwardly to her feet. "I've looked forward to coming to Hogwarts ever since B-Bill came and n-now I'll have to leave and - _w-what'll Mum and Dad say_?"

"You're not going to be expelled, lass," Moody said. "You're the victim in this situation. Albus will understand."

"Moody's right," Tonks stated. "If anyone says otherwise, you can tell them to shove it up their - "

"I think she gets it, Tonks," Shacklebolt interrupted, amusement lacing his tone.

Fawkes was waiting for them, hovering in the Chamber entrance. Harry urged Ginny forward; they stepped over the motionless coils of the dead basilisk, through the echoing gloom, and back into the tunnel. Harry heard the stone doors close behind them with a soft hiss.

"How're we going to get out of here?" Tonks asked.

Fawkes the phoenix had swooped past Harry and was now fluttering in front of him, his beady eyes bright in the dark. He was waving his long golden tail feathers. Harry looked uncertainly at him.

"Ha," Moody laughed. "We'll be taking the phoenix up on his offer. Potter, Weasley, grab onto my arm. Tonks, onto Shacklebolt. Shacklebolt, yes, you've got it."

With everyone gripping onto Moody, or someone who was gripping onto Moody, he took Fawkes tail feathers in his hands.

An extraordinary lightness seemed to spread through Harry's whole body and the next second, in a rush of wings, they were flying upward through the pipe. The chill air was whipping through Harry's hair, and before he'd stopped enjoying the ride, it was over - all five of them were hitting the wet floor of Moaning Myrtle's bathroom, and the sink that hid the pipe was sliding back into place.

Myrtle goggled at them.

"You're alive," she said blankly to Harry.

"There's no need to sound so disappointed," he said grimly, wiping flecks of blood and slime off his glasses.

"Oh, well… I'd just been thinking… if you had died, you'd have been welcome to share my toilet," said Myrtle, blushing silver.

Tonks started laughing as they left the bathroom for the dark, deserted corridor outside. "I think Myrtle's grown _fond_ of you, Harry! You've got competition, Ginny!"

But tears were still flooding silently down Ginny's face.

"Right, back to McGonagall," said Moody.

Fawkes was leading the way, glowing gold along the corridor. They strode after him, and moments later, found themselves outside Professor McGonagall's office. Harry knocked and pushed the door open.

**AN: Whew, that's done. Almost out of editing and onto proper writing. One more chapter. Minor edit that I didn't catch has been fixed.**

**Uploaded Aug. 7th, 2020**


	22. 22 - Rewards and Conversations

(replaces parts of chapter 18 of Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets)

For a moment there was silence as Harry, Ginny, Moody, Shacklebolt, and Tonks stood in the doorway, covered in muck and slime and (in Harry's case) blood. Then there was a scream.

"_Ginny_!"

It was Mrs. Weasley, who had been sitting crying in front of the fire. She leapt to her feet, closely followed by Mr. Weasley, and both of them flung themselves on their daughter.

Harry, however, was looking past them. Professor Dumbledore was standing by the mantelpiece, beaming, next to Professor McGonagall, who was taking great, steadying breaths, wiping her eyes. Fawkes went whooshing past Harry's ear and settled on Dumbledore's shoulder, just as Harry found himself being swept into Sirius's tight embrace.

"Thank goodness, pup," Sirius said, voice wobbling. "Don't scare us like that."

At that moment, Mrs. Weasley swept Harry into a tight hug, unmindful of Sirius's inclusion. "You saved her! You saved her! _How_ did you do it?"

"I think we'd all like to know that," said Professor McGonagall weakly.

Mrs. Weasley let go of Harry, who hesitated for a moment, then walked over to the desk and laid upon it the Sorting Hat, the ruby-encrusted sword, and what remained of Riddle's diary.

Then he started telling them everything. For nearly a quarter of an hour he spoke into the rapt silence: He told them about hearing the disembodied voice, how Hermione and Ben had finally realized that he was hearing a basilisk in the pipes; how he and Ron had a discussion with their friends, that Luna had told them where the last victim of the basilisk had died; how he had guessed that Moaning Myrtle had been the victim, and that the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets might be in her bathroom…

"Very well," Professor McGonagall prompted him as he paused, "so you found out where the entrance was - breaking many a school rule into pieces along the way, I might add - but how on _earth _did you all get out of there alive, Potter?"

This is where the Aurors jumped in. They talked about Harry leading them into the Chamber, how Tom Riddle was behind all of this, stressing that he was a spirit possessing Ginny, told them about Fawkes's timely arrival and about the Sorting Hat giving Harry the sword as the Basilisk was ordered to target him. Harry felt Sirius's hand gripping tightly upon his shoulder when he heard that tidbit. Harry saw Ginny tearing up as the Aurors described how Harry was bit before Fawkes healed him. The Aurors finished with the description of how Harry stabbed the diary, Dumbledore picking it up to examine more closely.

"Brilliant," he said softly. "Of course, he was probably the most brilliant student Hogwarts has ever seen." He turned around to the Weasleys, who were looking utterly bewildered.

"Very few people know that Lord Voldemort was once called Tom Riddle. I taught him myself, fifty years ago, at Hogwarts. He disappeared after leaving the school… traveled far and wide… sank so deeply into the Dark Arts, consorted with the very worst of our kind, underwent so many dangerous, magical transformations, that when he resurfaced as Lord Voldemort, he was barely recognizable. Hardly anyone connected Lord Voldemort with the clever, handsome boy who was once Head Boy here."

"But, Ginny," said Mrs. Weasley. "What's our Ginny got to do with - with - _him_?"

"His d-diary" Ginny sobbed. "I've b-been writing in it, and he's been w-writing back all year -"

"_Ginny!_" said Mr. Weasley, flabbergasted. "Haven't I taught you _anything_? What have I always told you? Never trust anything that can think for itself _if you can't see where it keeps its brain_? Why didn't you show the diary to me, or your mother? A suspicious object like that, it was _clearly_ full of Dark Magic - "

"Not really," Sirius interjected. "It's not _clearly_ dark magic but it is suspicious. Particularly if you don't know where it's been."

"I d-didn't know," sobbed Ginny. "I found it inside one of the books Mum got me. I th-thought someone had just left it in there and forgotten about it -"

"Miss Weasley should go up to the hospital wing right away," Dumbledore interrupted in a firm voice, preventing Harry from saying a similar thing. "This has been a terrible ordeal for her. There will be no punishment. Older and wiser wizards than she have been hoodwinked by Lord Voldemort." He strode over to the door and opened it. "Bed rest and perhaps a large, steaming mug of hot chocolate. I always find that cheers me up," he added, twinkling kindly down at her. "You will find that Madam Pomfrey is still awake. She's just giving out Mandrake juice - I daresay the basilisk's victims will be waking up any moment."

"They're all okay, then," Harry stated in relief.

"There has been no lasting harm done, Ginny," said Dumbledore.

Mrs. Weasley led Ginny out, and Mr. Weasley followed, still looking deeply shaken.

"Right," Moody said. "We need to report this to Madame Bones and the Minister. We'll get your gamekeeper back and out of jail, Albus. If we can, we'll even scrub his expulsion from the record."

"Thank you, Alastor," Dumbledore replied.

The Aurors left through the fireplace, with Sirius giving a message to Tonks to give to her mother.

"You know, Minerva," Professor Dumbledore said thoughtfully to Professor McGonagall, "I think all this merits a good _feast_. Might I ask you to go and alert the kitchens?"

"Right," said Professor McGonagall crisply, also moving to the door. "I'll leave you to deal with Potter, shall I?"

"Certainly," said Dumbledore.

She left, and Harry gazed uncertainly at Dumbledore, until he spotted the relaxed look on Sirius's face. That didn't seem to indicate that he was going to get punished for his actions.

"You know, I remember remarking to Sirius that you got into significantly less trouble that he and his friends did at your age," Dumbledore stated, Sirius snorting in amusement. "Which goes to show that the best of us must sometimes eat our words. You and your friends will receive Special Awards for Services to the School and - let me see - yes, I think one hundred points apiece for your friends and two hundred points for yourself, Harry.

"Sirius, you are invited to the feast, as well as Molly and Arthur," Dumbledore continued, smiling. "I'll have to inform them later. For now, I'd like to discuss something with Harry."

"I'm staying to listen," Sirius said firmly.

Dumbledore's eyes sparkled with amusement. "I wasn't suggesting otherwise."

Dumbledore raised his wand and conjured another chair while he crossed to one of the chairs by the fire.

"Sit down, Harry," he said, and Harry sat, feeling unaccountably nervous.

"First of all, Harry, I want to thank you," said Dumbledore, eyes twinkling again. "You must have shown me real loyalty down in the Chamber. Nothing but that could have called Fawkes to you."

He stroked the phoenix, which had fluttered down onto his knee. Harry grinned awkwardly as Dumbledore watched him.

"And so you met Tom Riddle," said Dumbledore thoughtfully. "I imagine he was _most _interested in you… "

Suddenly, something that was nagging at Harry came tumbling out of his mouth.

"Professor Dumbledore… Riddle said I'm like him. Strange likenesses, he said… "

"_Did _he, now?" said Dumbledore, looking thoughtfully at Harry from under his thick silver eyebrows. "And what do you think, Harry?"

"I don't think I'm like him!" said Harry, more loudly than he'd intended. "I mean, I'm - I'm in _Gryffindor_, I'm… "

But he fell silent, a lurking doubt resurfacing in his mind.

"Professor," he started again after a moment. "The Sorting Hat told me I'd - I'd have done well in Slytherin. Everyone thought I was Slytherin's heir for a while… because I can speak Parseltongue… "

"You can speak Parseltongue, Harry," said Dumbledore calmly, "because Lord Voldemort - who _is _the last remaining descendent of Salazar Slytherin - can speak Parseltongue. Unless I'm much mistaken, he transferred some of his own powers to you the night he gave you that scar. Not something he intended to do, I'm sure… "

"Voldemort put a bit of himself in _me_?" Harry said, thunderstruck, as Sirius seemed to be thinking at a very fast pace.

"It certainly seems so."

"So I _should_ be in Slytherin," Harry said, looking desperately into Dumbledore's face. "The Sorting Hat could see Slytherin's power in me, and it -"

"Put you in Gryffindor," said Dumbledore calmly. "Listen to me, Harry. You happen to have many qualities Salazar Slytherin prized in his hand-picked students. His own very rare gift, Parseltongue - resourcefulness - determination - a certain disregard for rules," he added, his mustache quivering again. "Yet the Sorting Hat placed you in Gryffindor. You know why that was. Think."

"It only put me in Gryffindor," said Harry in a defeated voice, "because I asked not to go in Slytherin… "

"_Exactly_, "said Dumbledore, beaming once more. "Which makes you _very different_ from Tom Riddle. It is our choices, Harry, that show what we truly are, far more than our abilities." Harry sat motionless in his chair, stunned. "If you want proof, Harry, that you belong in Gryffindor, I suggest you look more closely at _this_."

Dumbledore reached across to Professor McGonagall's desk, picked up the blood-stained silver sword, and handed it to Harry. Dully, Harry turned it over, the rubies blazing in the firelight. And then, as Sirius leaned over his shoulder to look, Harry saw the name engraved just below the hilt.

_Godric Gryffindor_

"Only a true Gryffindor could have pulled _that_ out of the hat, Harry," said Dumbledore simply.

For a while, nobody spoke. Then Dumbledore pulled open one of the drawers in Professor McGonagall's desk and took out a quill and a bottle of ink.

"What you need, Harry, is some food and sleep. I suggest you go down to the feast with Sirius, while I draft an advertisement for the _Daily Prophet_, too," he added thoughtfully. "We'll be needing a new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher… Dear me, we do seem to run through them, don't we?"

Harry got up and crossed to the door. He had just reached for the handle, however, when the door burst open so violently that it bounced back off the wall.

Lucius Malfoy stood there, fury in his face. And cowering behind his legs, heavily wrapped in bandages, was _Dobby._

"Good evening, Lucius," said Dumbledore pleasantly.

Mr. Malfoy almost knocked Harry over as he swept into the room. Sirius growled near silently after he did that. Dobby went scurrying in after him, crouching at the hem of his cloak, a look of abject terror on his face.

The elf was carrying a stained rag with which he was attempting to finish cleaning Mr. Malfoys shoes. Apparently Mr. Malfoy had set out in a great hurry, for not only were his shoes half-polished, but his usually sleek hair was disheveled. Ignoring the elf bobbing apologetically around his ankles, he fixed his cold eyes upon Dumbledore.

"So!" he said "You've come back. The governors suspended you, but you still saw fit to return to Hogwarts."

"Well, you see, Lucius," said Dumbledore, smiling serenely, "the other eleven governors contacted me today. It was something like being caught in a hailstorm of owls, to tell the truth. They'd heard that Arthur Weasleys daughter had been killed and wanted me back here at once. They seemed to think I was the best man for the job after all. Very strange tales they told me, too...Several of them seemed to think that you had threatened to curse their families if they didn't agree to suspend me in the first place."

Mr. Malfoy went even paler than usual, but his eyes were still slits of fury.

"So - have you stopped the attacks yet?" he sneered. "Have you caught the culprit?"

"We have," said Dumbledore, with a smile.

"_Well_?" said Mr. Malfoy sharply. "Who is it?"

"The same person as last time, Lucius," said Dumbledore. "But this time, Lord Voldemort was acting through somebody else. By means of this diary."

He held up the small black book with the large hole through the center, watching Mr. Malfoy closely. Harry, however, was watching Dobby.

The elf was doing something very odd. His great eyes fixed meaningfully on Harry, he kept pointing at the diary, then at Mr. Malfoy, and then hitting himself hard on the head with his fist.

"I see… " said Mr. Malfoy slowly to Dumbledore.

"A clever plan," said Dumbledore in a level voice, still staring Mr. Malfoy straight in the eye.

"Because if Harry here -" Mr. Malfoy shot Harry a swift, sharp look " hadn't discovered this book, why - Ginny Weasley might have taken all the blame. No one would ever have been able to prove she hadn't acted of her own free will… "

Mr. Malfoy said nothing. His face was suddenly masklike.

"And imagine," Dumbledore went on, "what might have happened then… The Weasleys are one of our most prominent pure-blood families. Imagine the effect on Arthur Weasley and his Muggle Protection Act, if his own daughter was discovered attacking and - killing Muggle-borns… Very fortunate the diary was discovered, and Riddle's memories wiped from it. Who knows what the consequences might have been otherwise… "

Mr. Malfoy forced himself to speak.

"Very fortunate," he said stiffly.

And still, behind his back, Dobby was pointing, first to the diary, then to Lucius Malfoy, then punching himself in the head.

And Harry suddenly understood. He nodded at Dobby, and Dobby backed into a corner, now twisting his ears in punishment.

"Don't you want to know how Ginny got hold of that diary, Mr. Malfoy?" said Harry.

Lucius Malfoy rounded on him.

"How should I know how the stupid little girl got hold of it?" he said.

"Because you gave it to her," said Harry. "In Flourish and Blotts. You picked up her old Transfiguration book and slipped the diary inside it, didn't you?"

He saw Mr. Malfoy's white hands clench and unclench.

"Prove it," he hissed.

"Oh, no one will be able to do that," said Dumbledore, smiling at Harry. "Not now that Riddle has vanished from the book. On the other hand, I would advise you, Lucius, not to go giving out any more of Lord Voldemort's old school things. If any more of them find their way into innocent hands, I think Arthur Weasley, for one, will make sure they are traced back to you… "

Lucius Malfoy stood for a moment, and Harry distinctly saw his right hand twitch as though he was longing to reach for his wand. Instead, he turned to his house-elf. "We're going, Dobby!"

He wrenched open the door and as the elf came hurrying up to him, he kicked him right through it. They could hear Dobby squealing with pain all the way along the corridor. Harry stood for a moment, thinking hard. Then it came to him -

"Professor Dumbledore," he said hurriedly. "Can I give that diary _back_ to Mr. Malfoy, please?"

"Certainly, Harry," said Dumbledore calmly as Sirius started grinning widely in the background. "But hurry. The feast, remember… " Harry grabbed the diary and dashed out of the office. He could hear Dobby's squeals of pain receding around the corner. Quickly, wondering if this plan could possibly work, Harry took off one of his shoes, pulled off his slimy, filthy sock, and stuffed the diary into it. Then he ran down the dark corridor.

He caught up with them at the top of the stairs.

"Mr. Malfoy," he gasped, skidding to a halt, "I've got something for you -"

And he forced the smelly sock into Lucius Malfoy's hand.

"What the -?"

Mr. Malfoy ripped the sock off the diary, threw it aside, then looked furiously from the ruined book to Harry. "You'll meet the same sticky end as your parents one of these days, Harry Potter," he said softly. "They were meddlesome fools, too."

He turned to go.

"Come, Dobby. I said, _come_."

But Dobby didn't move. He was holding up Harry's disgusting, slimy sock, and looking at it as though it were a priceless treasure.

"Master has given a sock," said the elf in wonderment. "Master gave it to Dobby."

"What's that?" spat Mr. Malfoy. "What did you say?"

"Got a sock," said Dobby in disbelief. "Master threw it, and Dobby caught it, and Dobby - Dobby is _free_."

Lucius Malfoy stood frozen, staring at the elf then he lunged at Harry.

"You've lost me my servant, boy!"

But Dobby shouted, "You shall not harm Harry Potter!"

There was a loud bang, and Mr. Malfoy was thrown backward. He crashed down the stairs, three at a time, landing in a crumpled heap on the landing below. He got up, his face livid, and pulled out his wand, but Dobby raised a long, threatening finger.

"You shall go now," he said fiercely, pointing down at Mr. Malfoy. "You shall not touch Harry Potter. You shall go now."

Lucius Malfoy had no choice. With a last, incensed stare at the pair of them, he swung his cloak around him and hurried out of sight.

"Harry Potter freed Dobby!" said the elf shrilly, gazing up at Harry, moonlight from the nearest window reflected in his orb-like eyes. "Harry Potter set Dobby free!"

"Least I could do, Dobby," said Harry, grinning. "Just promise never to try and save my life again."

The elf's ugly brown face split suddenly into a wide, toothy smile.

"I've just got one question, Dobby," said Harry as Dobby pulled on Harry's sock with shaking hands. "You told me all this had nothing to do with He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, remember? Well -"

"It was a clue, sir," said Dobby, his eyes widening, as though this was obvious. "Was giving you a clue. The Dark Lord, before he changed his name, could be freely named, you see?"

"Right," said Harry weakly. "Well, I'd better go. There's a feast, and my friend Hermione should be awake by now… "

Dobby threw his arms around Harry's middle and hugged him.

"Harry Potter is greater by far than Dobby knew!" he sobbed. "Farewell, Harry Potter!"

And with a final loud crack, Dobby disappeared.

"That was a good thing you did, Harry."

Harry whirled around to see Sirius standing next to the corner.

"What're you talking about?" Harry asked innocently.

Sirius let out a short bark of laughter. "Don't try that with me, Harry. I was with your father when he tried to use _that _to get out of trouble. I also saw a similar look come over your face as when your father had an idea for pranking someone."

"Dobby tried to help me," Harry said, shrugging his shoulders. "It seemed only right to try to help him."

Sirius put an arm around his shoulder as he led him towards the great hall. "That's a sentiment both your parents would approve of, although your execution was more along your mother's way."

* * *

Harry had been to several Hogwarts feasts, but never one quite like this. Everybody was in their pajamas, and the celebration lasted all night. Harry didn't know whether the best bit was Hermione running toward him, screaming "You solved it! You solved it!", or Ben coming in slightly after, nearly falling when both Luna and Daphne ran over to hug him before sitting next to Sirius and the Weasley twins, who were looking at Sirius in awe, or Justin hurrying over from the Hufflepuff table to wring his hand and apologize endlessly for suspecting him, or Hagrid turning up at half past three, cuffing Harry so hard on the shoulders that he was knocked into his plates of trifle, or the combined four hundred points for Gryffindor securing the House Cup for the second year running, or Professor McGonagall standing up to tell them all that the exams had been canceled as a school treat ("Oh, no!" said Hermione), or Dumbledore announcing that, unfortunately, Professor Lockhart would be unable to return next year, owing to the fact that he needed to go away and get his memory back. Quite a few of the teachers joined in the cheering that greeted this news.

When Harry passed by the Blacks and Weasley twins later on, he heard something about a replica and an heirloom.

* * *

A few days later, Harry was wandering the halls. Ron and Hermione had gotten into another argument and Harry needed some time away from them. As such, he wandered the halls, thinking about how the other victims of the basilisk were handling it. Most seemed to have reverted to their normal selves, however Harry was worried about Ginny, and how she was doing; being forced to open the Chamber for Voldemort couldn't have been a pleasant experience. As Harry passed an abandoned classroom, he heard Ginny's voice.

" - got some of _his_ knowledge." Harry heard as he leaned into the gap of the door.

"Well," Ben's voice spoke from beyond the door. "That's one positive to this whole, horrid affair."

"But it's _evil_."

"The knowledge itself isn't evil," Ben replied authoritatively. "It's how it's used. What's one piece of knowledge that you have … _acquired_ that you think is evil."

Ginny was silent for a moment. "There's a ritual that allows a spirit to re-acquire a body. It requires the blood of an enemy, forcibly taken, a bone from a forefather, unknowingly given, and the flesh of a servant, willingly given. It's foul and wrong and - "

"Evil," Ben interrupted. "You're right that the ritual is evil. The knowledge about the ritual however; _that_ can be used to counter or subvert it."

Ginny was silent for another moment. "I didn't think of it that way."

Harry didn't hear anything for a moment, until Ben spoke. "On the topic of the Chamber, I'm thankful that only your family, Harry, Hermione, and myself know that you were possessed and forced to open the Chamber."

"It's my fault," Ginny said in a depressed tone. "Harry probably hates me now."

"That's a load of hogwash," Ben stated. "You trusted someone who abused that trust. You were tricked; it's not your fault. Harry would agree with me. He doesn't hate you; you fascinate him too much."

Harry was confused by that statement. Apparently, so was Ginny. "What do you mean?"

"I mean that Harry's watching you constantly. You know, I asked Harry what class the first years of Gryffindor had during our class with Lockhart and he replied with … oh, shoot, I can't remember precisely what class but he said 'Ginny's in such and such'. Afterwards, I started paying more attention to him to see if he was taking more notice of you. I saw him focus on you for just a moment whenever you entered his field of vision. I don't think he's conscious of it."

Harry didn't hear Ginny's reply as he backed up. _Why do I focus on her?_ Harry asked himself. _Better yet, do I?_ Reviewing his memories, he found that Ben was correct. He seemed to always know where Ginny was at any given moment. He also vividly remembered what she was doing, even if it was as mundane as buttering her bread at dinner, like she did last night. It wasn't because she looked like anyone; she looked a bit like her mother but Harry knew that wasn't the reason.

_Was it because she's like a sibling? _Harry thought. No, he decided this was something different. He felt that she was more special than that. If anything, Ron and Hermione felt more like siblings to him than nearly anyone did.

As he walked off, Harry decided to talk to Sirius about this. He didn't know what this was or how to take it.

**AN: Well, I think I'm getting back in the swing of things. Work started up again and I managed to get this done before today. Next chapter will be entirely my own writing.**

**Uploaded Aug. 21st, 2020**


	23. 23 - The Cleansing of Grimmauld Place

**AN: This first author's notes is a summary of the events before this chapter for those who are coming to this story and want to skip the edited portion. **

**Book 1 was the first 5 chapters of this story dealing with the introduction of the original character Benjamin Altair Black, known as Ben. That part introduced him and had him start changing the story in minute ways, appearing about as often as Neville did in the original text. Book 2 is the remaining 17 chapters, which deal with the summer after in which Harry visits Ben's house and he meets his family, which will occasionally be mentioned. Dobby doesn't manage to intercept as much mail and Ben recovers it by disarming Dobby. The Weasley's car is not taken to Hogwarts, although it still appears there. Ben does advanced spellwork and discovers Peter Pettigrew this year, causing Sirius to be released from prison. Luna is taken under Ben's aegis before he and Hermione are petrified. Ben suggests that the person opening the Chamber may be possessed. Harry and Ron inform Professor McGonagall about the Chamber and its secrets, causing her to call some Aurors in. Everything else is about the same.**

**With that, let's get on with the fic!**

Harry walked through the doors of Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place with a bit of trepidation. From what Sirius had said of his house, it was full of dark magic still. When Ben asked further about it on the way here, Sirius explained exactly how dark their family was. Ben was silent in disapproval and disappointment for the remainder of the time.

As Harry looked around, he could see the signs that this was at one point a darker house, at least in color scheme. The walls were decorated by new wallpaper, although there were still some areas that had the old, peeling wallpaper. The carpeting was an inviting, if neutral, color, contrasting the serpent shaped chandelier and candelabra, the latter of which was on a nearby rickety table. Further in, there was a large umbrella stand that looked as though it was made from a severed troll's leg.

Sirius stepped in behind Harry. "Welcome to my home. It's not the best, but it'll do. Remus should be about here somewhere."

Ben looked around for a moment before nodding at Sirius and asking, "Which room should I put my stuff in?"

"I'll get Kreacher to drop it off, you'll be in your father's old room at the top of the house, straight off from the stairs. Harry, I put you in my old room, is that alright?"

Harry nodded, unable to speak due to his emotions running wild. Ben seemed to be deeply touched by Sirius's gesture as well.

"KREACHER," Sirius bellowed.

"Master called?" Kreacher asked as he popped in front of Sirius.

Ben knelt to Kreacher's level. "Could you please take my and Harry's belongings and put them in our rooms?"

Kreacher stared at Ben, wide eyed in surprise. "Of course, Master Benjamin."

Ben smiled at him. "Thank you, Kreacher."

Kreacher's eyes started to water as he disappeared with Harry and Ben's luggage. Sirius stared at Ben in slight shock. "I think I'll have you order Kreacher if that's his response."

Harry frowned. "Has he not been treated kindly?"

"Our family hasn't always been kind to house-elves," Sirius stated. "Kreacher himself used to help my parents in tormenting me, so I'm not as kind to him as I usually am to other house-elves. He's also not happy that I managed to remove my mother's portrait from the first floor landing."

"Ah," Ben stated. "He was devoted to her then?"

"Yes," Sirius said. "He's not been happy that the house was cleaned, but as soon as I explained that you were coming here, he seemed to instantly tone down his hostility. He only requested that we don't throw out artifacts. Thankfully, Remus and I stumbled across a ritual that'll remove the dark enchantments from them. I got a few things from my cousin's vault that had dark enchantments on them after I kicked her out of the family that are also getting cleansed before they're being sold. Now, let's go eat."

Sirius led the pair of boys into the kitchen. The trio then set about preparing a meal to feed themselves. Harry noticed that Sirius seemed to do rather well at preparing a meal while Ben needed to be pointed to some directions, then would take off, being as exact as he could be.

After finishing their meal, they heard Remus's voice calling through the hall "Is anyone here?"

"We're in the kitchen," Sirius and Ben said at the same time, startling each other.

Remus walks in, carrying a couple of bags. "I've got the supplies."

Ben looked at him, eyes gleaming, "Could we watch?"

Remus and Sirius look at each other. "I think that should be fine. Just stay out of the way."

Harry and Ben nod. The quartet traveled to the drawing room, where a variety of trunks were positioned in the center of the room.

Sirius pointed to some chairs at the side of the room. "Sit over there and touch nothing, this will take a minute."

The boys nod and proceed to sit in the chairs. As Sirius and Remus prepare the ritual, Ben bombardes them with technical questions that go over Harry's head. Remus answers each question calmly and precisely, which Harry can kind of understand. Remus notices this as he and Sirius finish up the ritual preparations and says, "I'll give you a better explanation, later, Harry."

Harry nods at Remus. Sirius and Remus start chanting in a language that sounds similar to the spells that Harry knows. As the chanting increased in volume, Harry noticed Remus's voice straining and face scrunching in pain. Before Harry could ask anyone about it, his scar throbs violently with pain. He rubs his head, trying to alleviate the pain, which does nothing as the pain increases. He notices Ben turning to him, lips moving, but Harry can no longer hear him as screams start filling the air, one seems to be coming from his scar. As the chanting and screaming reaches a crescendo, a light flashes throughout the room, and Harry passes out, as his scar feels like it burst.

**AN: Okay, book 3 starting. Sorry about the cliffhanger. I hope you still enjoyed it, regardless. Please review, favorite, or follow if you liked it.**

**Uploaded Sep 4th, 2020**


	24. 24 - A Family Reunion

He lay face down, listening to the silence. He was perfectly alone. Nobody was watching. Nobody else was there. He was not perfectly sure that he was there himself.

A long time later, or maybe no time at all, it came to him that he must exist, must be more than disembodied thought, because he was lying, definitely lying, on some surface. Therefore he had a sense of touch, and the thing against which he lay existed too.

Almost as soon as he had reached this conclusion, Harry became conscious that he was naked. Convinced as he was of his total solitude, this did not concern him, but it did intrigue him slightly. He wondered whether, as he could feel, he would be able to see. In opening them, he discovered that he had eyes.

He lay in a bright mist, though it was not like mist he had ever experienced before. His surroundings were not hidden by cloudy vapor; rather the cloudy vapor had not yet formed into surroundings. The floor on which he lay seemed to be white, neither warm nor cold, but simply there, a flat, blank something on which to be.

He sat up. His body appeared unscathed. He touched his face. He was not wearing glasses anymore.

Then a noise reached him through the unformed nothingness that surrounded him: the small soft thumpings of something that flapped, flailed, and struggled. It was a pitiful noise, yet also slightly indecent. He had the uncomfortable feeling that he was eavesdropping on something furtive, shameful.

For the first time, he wished he were clothed.

Barely had the wish formed in his head than robes appeared a short distance away. He took them and pulled them on: They were soft, clean, and warm. It was extraordinary how they had appeared, just like that, the moment he had wanted them…

He stood up, looking around. Was he in some great Room of Requirement? The longer he looked, the more there was to see. A great domed glass roof glittered high above him in sunlight. Perhaps it was a palace. All was hushed and still, except for those odd thumping and whimpering noises coming from somewhere close by in the mist…

Harry turned slowly on the spot, and his surroundings seemed to invent themselves before his eyes. A wide-open space, bright and clean, a hall larger by far than the Great Hall, with that clear, domed glass ceiling. It was quite empty. He was the only person there, except for -

He recoiled. He had spotted the thing that was making the noises. It had the form of a small, naked child, curled on the ground, its skin raw and rough, flayed-looking, and it lay shuddering under a seat where it had been left, unwanted, stuffed out of sight, struggling for breath.

He was afraid of it. Small and fragile and wounded though it was, he did not want to approach it. Nevertheless he drew slowly nearer, ready to jump back at any moment. Soon he stood near enough to touch it, yet he could not bring himself to do it. He felt like a coward. He ought to comfort it, but it repulsed him.

"You can't help it, son."

He spun around to face the voice. His parents were walking towards him, his mother is an emerald green dress, his father in midnight blue robes. His mother came to him and hugged him. It was not the smothering, bone-crushing hug of Mrs. Weasley's or the brief, rib-cracking hug of Hermione, but it conveyed love and acceptance beyond what either of the others provided. Harry returned the hug, tears leaking from his eyes.

"My boy," Lily said, releasing him, with warmth and love beyond any that Harry knew. Harry noticed that there were tears in the corners of her eyes. "My baby boy."

James hugged him next. It was a bit more brief, but conveyed the same feeling as his mother's. "Let's talk. Walk and talk."

Harry, smiling despite the tears running down his face, nodded. As they started walking, Harry had to ask. "Am I dead?"

"_No_!" his mother denied, so loudly and passionately that he jumped. "No," she said more quietly. "No, this is a result of two opposing forces being forced together, with you, Harry, caught in the middle."

"You remember the diary," his father asked, to which Harry nodded. "When it told you that it was a memory, it lied. It was a soul, or a fragment, at least."

Harry's eyes widened at this revelation. "So, when Dumbledore said Voldemort left some of his power in me - "

" - he meant a fragment of his soul, yes." Lily replied. "That fragment, however, never had any control over any part of your life. You've not been influenced by it, nor has it influenced anyone around you. The only thing that it could do was connect you to Voldemort, if he had a body, and give you Parseltongue. With the way it was removed, something may remain, but not something sinister or dark."

"Your mother's right, Harry," James jumped in. "You might have a bit of extra knowledge that you don't remember from where you got, the link may still be open for a time, or you may still be a Parseltongue. We really don't know."

Harry nodded. "So, the thing back there… ?"

Lily and James both nodded as James spoke, "Yes, that a piece of Voldemort's soul. It's just as mutilated as the two others from the ritual and the other one you sent here, after you saved that cute redhead."

James smirked at Harry as he blushed. Lily slapped her husband's arm, glaring lightly at him. "James, behave."

James merely laughed. Lily huffed in response, a small smile gracing her lips as she looked away from her husband. Harry smiled warmly as he looked at his parents, their love for each other was obvious.

"I wish Severus treated you better," Lily said, changing the subject. "He never used to be so petty."

"He always was," James disagreed. "He was just obsessed with you, so he never tried to show it to you."

"No," Lily denied. "Before we went to Hogwarts, he wasn't as bad. Oh, he was still a bit petty and vindictive, but not as much as he was after he was sorted into Slytherin. You probably made it worse, though."

James looked vaguely guilty. "Probably. Didn't mean he would have been an angel, though. He _did_ still hang out with the future Death-Eaters, and it's not like Sirius, Remus, Peter, and I drove Snivellus right into their arms, he was already on that path."

It was then that Harry figured out precisely who they were talking about. "You were friends with _Snape_?!"

"I was," Lily stated simply. "He was my best friend before going to Hogwarts, after Petunia got jealous of me. He was the one who told me about magic. We started drifting apart after he was sorted into Slytherin. He fell in with the Death-Eaters, Malfoy, Avery, Mulciber."

"The Marauders weren't exactly saints," James jumped in, "and I will admit that we were harsher on Severus than on some of the other students in our year, but we _never_ hexed students for merely being muggleborn, like Severus and his friends did. Severus didn't join in on that pastime much until after Lily ended their friendship in our fifth year."

"Why'd you end it then?" Harry asked, confused as to both why his mother would ever let her friendship die and that she didn't end her friendship with Snape sooner.

"He called me a mudblood," Lily replied, frown on her face. "After I tried to help him."

Harry nodded. That made sense to him.

James looked at his wife and son before he spoke. "Lily, why don't we tell him some stories, while he's still here. He's not here for much longer, so let's not end our first meeting with him in a while on a sour note."

Harry's eyes were shining at the idea of hearing some stories about his parents. The pair told him as many stories as they could.

"It's time for you to go back," James said, after finishing a story about a prank he pulled.

"We love you, but we want you to live, Harry. Be happy, make friends, get married," Lily said.

"Maybe to a certain cute redhead," James teased.

Lily smacked his arm again. "We want you to live a long and happy life, even if that means we won't see you for many, many years to come."

Harry hugged both his parents. He simply said, "I love you."

"We love you, too, son," James said.

As the embrace ended, the world around Harry faded to white.

**AN: This was a rather emotional chapter for me to write. I am honestly a little choked up even now by how bittersweet this chapter turned out.**

**Uploaded Sept. 18th, 2020**


	25. 25 - After the Reunion

Harry woke up slowly. He was lying on his back on what felt like a sofa. He cracked open his eyes to see that he was still in the drawing room. He noticed Ben was sitting quietly reading in a chair. The trunks were no longer in the room, although a cup and locket that Harry thought was in them were beside Ben.

"How long was I out?" Harry asked, startling Ben.

"Oh, um …" Ben stammered. "I dunno? About an hour, I think. I wasn't paying that close of attention after Sirius determined you were alright."

Ben proceeded to get up and walk over to Harry's side. "How are you feeling?"

"Good," Harry replied. "Very good. My head feels clearer and I, well, I remember talking to my parents."

Ben went very still for a moment. He hoarsely croaked, "What? Where did you meet them?"

Harry frowned. "I dunno. It looked like Kings Cross, except empty and cleaner."

"An intermediary place," Ben whispered, voice still choked with emotion. He cleared his throat.

"A what?" Harry asked.

"An intermediary place," Ben stated, his voice stronger and clearer. "A place between. I think, thanks to the destruction of the … thing in your head - "

"My parents said it was a fragment of Voldemort's soul," Harry interrupted.

Ben nodded. "That's what Sirius speculated. He left to … inform Dumbledore while Remus and yourself were recovering. Anyway, to get back to my point, I think you were transported to that place by something inside of you fully dying while most of you was alive."

Harry nodded before asking, "What happened to Remus?"

"He was a werewolf," Ben said, smirking at Harry's expression. "I know, he doesn't act like any of the tales. Well, I should say he's still a werewolf, but, as far as Sirius could tell, he'll be more in control of his wolf."

Harry thought that was a brilliant thing to happen to a werewolf, particularly one as nice as Remus. He noticed he still felt tired.

Ben noticed as well, "Get some more rest, Harry. Sirius isn't expecting you or Remus to be up and moving for a while."

Harry nodded as he walked up the stairs to the room Sirius put him in. He barely looked around as he fell onto the bed, passing out almost the instant his head hit the pillow.

* * *

The next month was a whirlwind of activity for Harry. He and Ben talk frequently with Sirius and Remus, asking about stories of their parents. Ben got to hear about Regulus's younger years and Harry heard many stories about his father and the pranks he pulled.

Harry was frequently at the Burrow as well, playing Quidditch and otherwise hanging out with Ron and the rest of the Weasleys. Mrs. Weasley still fussed over whether he was getting enough food. Ginny was still unbelievably shy toward him, although something seems to have change. She still blushed heavily, but instead of racing out of the room or being clumsy, she just sat in the same room as Harry. The first time he had seen her, Harry had made sure to explain to her that it wasn't her fault and that he didn't blame her or think less of her.

He was still sorting out why he was paying so much attention to her. At first, he thought it was because he wanted to be her friend. As he tried to get her to open up more around him, which was difficult as she still didn't talk much to him, too embarrassed to say anything, he realized that he seemed to want Ginny to be something more than his friend. When he made the mistake of asking Sirius, he got teased mercilessly by Sirius, Remus, and Ben.

Sirius, Remus, and Ben were working with the twins on something over the summer, making the twins frequent visitors to Grimmauld Place. Harry didn't know what they were working on, as whenever he asked one of them about it, they said it was a surprise. Harry noted that whenever they were working, it was with scraps of parchment and ink.

* * *

Harry arrived at the Burrow over a week before his birthday. Mr. Weasley had won a ton of galleons recently and was planning on taking his family on vacation to visit his eldest, Bill. Because of this, Harry was spending as much time with the Weasleys as he could. Sirius, Ben, and Remus were already over for some reason.

As he stepped out of the fireplace, he noticed no one was in the room. He called out, "Mrs. Weasley?"

"I'm in the kitchen, dear!" Was the response.

Harry moved to the kitchen, wondering where everybody was. As he entered the kitchen, there was a thunderous chorus of "SURPRISE!"

Harry's eyes widened, turning to look at the people here. Sirius, Remus, Fred, George, and Ben were laughing slightly at his startled expression. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were smiling kindly at him. Ron was smirking at him, although Harry noticed great warmth in his eyes. Ginny was blushing terribly, but she had shouted with the rest. When Harry caught her eye, she blushed more heavily. Percy stood, clearly not wanting to be here, although he liked Harry well enough, they just weren't that close, but still making an effort.

"What's all this about?" Harry asked.

"Well, since most of us will be gone on your birthday, Ben suggested that we have a party for you a bit early," Ron replied.

Harry turned to look at Ben, who nodded. "Since it would only be Sirius and Remus with you on your birthday, I thought it would be a good idea for some of the people you're closest to to gather and celebrate your birthday, even if it's a bit early."

Harry smiled warmly at Ben. "Thanks."

Harry received smiles back from everybody here. It was the best day that of Harry's life.

**AN: One of, hopefully, two today. An explanation as to why I missed an upload in the next chapter.**

**Uploaded Oct. 16th, 2020**


	26. 26 - Breakouts and Returns

It had been about a month since Harry's birthday celebration. The Weasleys were in Egypt with the eldest, Bill, Hermione was in France, and Ben was with his mother and sisters in America. It was the latter that had the most impact on Harry's day-to-day life, as without Ben in Grimmauld Place, it was more quiet, though Harry did miss all his friends.

Speaking of birthdays and friends, Harry received a couple of presents from them. Ron had given him a Pocket Sneakoscope, Hermione got him a Broom Servicing Kit, Hagrid gifted him with a copy of _The Monster Book of Monsters_, which Sirius figured out how to calm down. In regards to Sirius, he gave Harry a new picture of his parents that Harry didn't have. It had been up in his room with a letter. Remus gave him a copy of _The Essential Defence Against the Dark Arts_, which he had bought before he was informed that he was the newest Defense Professor and Hogwarts. Ben gave him a pair of Seeker's gloves, as Harry didn't actually have his own. Ginny gave him a well made drawing of his parents, based off of a photo Harry had shown her. Harry was deeply touched by her gift.

Before Ginny's birthday, Harry sent a necklace that was enchanted to protect against mental assaults, which was used as a precursor to learning Occlumency. He thought it was better than what Ben was talking about getting her, which was a non-magical journal for her to use as a diary if she wanted to.

Harry went to the kitchen for breakfast, finding Sirius reading the _Daily Prophet_ as he finished his breakfast. "Morning," Harry greeted.

"Good morning," Sirius stated. As Sirius looked up from the paper, Harry noticed his expression was one of worry and pain.

"What's wrong?" Harry asked.

"A Death Eater broke out of Azkaban last night. He murdered Wormtail, but it says that it appears that he was interrogated."

Harry nodded, indicating he understood. Although he didn't think of him often, Harry had wondered if Pettigrew had regretted his actions. Harry understood that, even if he was a Death Eater, Sirius would still mourn his old friend, the boy he was.

"Do they know why or how the Death Eater broke out?"

Sirius shook his head. "No. No one knows how Dolohov escaped. I think that he's looking for Voldemort."

Harry frowned, worrying about the possibility of Voldemort returning. Sirius caught his expression.

"Harry, don't worry, they'll catch him before anything happens," Sirius reassured him. Harry could tell that Sirius didn't really believe that, but appreciated what he was trying to do.

"When's Ben coming back?" Harry asked, changing the topic.

"Today," Sirius said, clearly relieved for the change in topic. "Remus went out to pick him up, actually. Ben apparently decided to take a really early portkey."

Harry nodded at that, not terribly surprised at that. Ben was notorious for his earliness. If he wasn't going to arrive at least five minutes early for anything, he would claim to be running late.

Harry had just finished his breakfast when Remus and Ben entered the kitchen. When Harry spotted Ben, he noticed immediately that something was different. There was no one thing that pointed to it that Harry could discern, but he noticed Ben seemed more melancholy than Harry had ever seen him.

"Good morning," Ben said, smiling brightly.

"Welcome back," Sirius stated, hugging him.

"It's good to have you back," Harry said.

"It's good to be back," Ben replied, voice wavering slightly. "Is breakfast still on, I'm rather famished."

Sirius nodded, calling Kreature to fix Ben a good, hearty breakfast.

"How was your time with your family?" Sirius asked.

"Good," Ben said. "It was good. Mum and I had a wonderful time together, I spent long hours discussing magic with Hope, told Joy all about my friends, reassured Charles I was doing well in my studies, and had plenty of free time to walk around the woods."

Ben seemed to wilt slightly after that, although he was still smiling.

"We're going to meet the Weasleys and Hermione in Diagon Alley tomorrow, right?" Ben asked, changing the subject.

"Yes," Sirius replied.

Harry was concerned about the change in Ben's overall demeanor. Harry noticed Sirius and Remus exchanging looks, both a bit concerned.

Ben nodded. "Okay, if we get there early enough, we can get our supplies, gawk at the new broom that came out. Oh, that reminds me, could I get a broom for a birthday present? I wanted to try out for the Quidditch team this year and, even if I don't make it on, I like flying and will probably help train Harry if we bump into each other on the pitch. Now, where was I ... ah! right, so after gawking at the broom, we can meet up with the Weasleys and Hermione and spend the rest of the time hanging out with them while they go shopping."

"Sounds like a plan," Sirius said, looking to Harry to see if it was alright with him.

Harry nodded.

The rest of the day was spent in relative quiet, as Ben seemed to only want to discuss a few things.

**AN: So, the reason why I am uploading this now and why I missed one of my usual update times was due to a combination of moving and writer's block and a want to make it up to you guys. I will be posting the next chapter next week. Oh, and Happy Halloween!**

**Uploaded: Oct. 30th, 2020**


End file.
